
Class J^SiLMT 
Rnnk .H i ^ ^"? 



PRESENTED BY 






From the Heart 
of Israel 



Jewish Tales and Types 




BY 



Bernard Drachman 

li 

Illustrated by 

A. WARSHAWSKY 





NEW YORK 


JAMES 


POTT & 

1905 


COMPANY 



Mos- 



Copyright, 1905 

By BERNARD DRACHMAN 



i6in«ird-Schifi 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Apologia pro Libro Suo, ...... v 

The Village Kehillah, . . . . . . i 

Nordheim, i 

Schnorrers, 28 

Gendarmes, 37 

Reb Shemayah and other Nordheim Worthies, . 49 

The Little Horseradish Woman, . . .84 

The General, 95 

Too Late, but on Time, 128 

The Proselyte OF Righteousness, . . . 142 

Isaac and Alice, 168 

The Scissors-Grinder, 186 

The Shlemihl, 211 

A Victim of Prejudice, 244 

The Rabbi's Game of Cards, . . . . . 268 

Glossary of Hebrew and other non-English 

Terms 291 



fv> 



I 



APOLOGIA PRO LIBRO SUO 

"Is Saul also among the prophets?" With 
my mental ear I hear thus exclaim those ii 
whose view the teller of tales stands immeasur- 
ably higher than the rabbi, minister, preacher, 
scholar, or whatever else may be called he whose 
vocation it is to disseminate Hebrew religion 
and wisdom, when they see that one of the latter 
class has dared to intrude among those who take 
fiction as their exclusive and legitimate field, and 
has also ventured before the public with a book 
of tales. *' What would the priest in the house 
of graves (cemetery)?" I hear, on the other 
hand, indignantly ask those who deem the wis- 
dom of the Torah alone worthy of attention, and 
who think it degradation and sin to turn away 
even for a moment from the study and the 
teaching of Holy Writ and the words of the 
sages to waste time with the telling of empty 
tales. Both agree in their application to the 
present case of the Latin and English proverb 
" Ne sutor ultra crepidam " (" Let the shoe- 
maker stick to his last ") ; and that they are not 

[V} 



APOLOGIA PRO LIBRO SUO 

right is not for the one who is responsible for 
the present effort to say, but must be left to the 
decision of an impartial public, which will not 
fail to tell truthfully whether it has found aught 
of pleasure or profit in the stories of Jewish life 
hereinafter contained. But it maybe permitted 
to the writer to say that, in his humble opinion, 
both of the criticisms quoted above are based on 
erroneous conceptions. The telling of tales is 
neither independent of nor contradictory to the 
Torah ; that is to say, it may be a most excellent 
method of inculcating pure and noble lessons, 
and has always been used for such purpose by 
the great teachers in Israel. 

Indeed, the putting before the world of truth- 
ful pictures of Jewish life is in itself a good and 
useful work. It is extraordinary, considering 
that the Jews have lived in the midst of all civil- 
ized peoples for almost twenty centuries, what 
ignorance concerning the teachings of their re- 
ligion and their characteristics as a people still 
prevails. They have sojourned in the midst of 
mankind and have wandered from land to land, 
stamped everywhere with the seal of mystery, 
looked upon by all not of their creed and kin 
as a " peculiar," enigmatical, incomprehensible 
people. The fact that their Book, which most 
thoroughly reveals their innermost spirit, has 

[vi] 



APOLOGIA PRO LIBRO SUO 

become the cherished property of the world, 
should have made such misconception impos- 
sible ; but it has not done so. Whatever, there- 
fore, helps to show Jewish life in its true 
aspect, to reveal the poetry and the romance, 
the sorrow and the wretchedness, but also the 
joy and the beauty, the glory and the heroism 
of Jewish existence even in the unheroic pres- 
ent, performs a most useful, truly religious 
work. Nothing can do this more effectively 
than fiction, which appeals to multitudes to 
whom works of formal learning, of profound and 
scholarly research, could never find access. 
This is the excuse of the writer for departing 
for a time from those domains of Jewish learn- 
ing which should, perhaps, more properly em- 
ploy his energies, and becoming, in a measure, 
a rival of those who have in recent years tilled 
the field of Jewish fiction. In a ministry now 
of many years' duration he has naturally had 
the opportunity of becoming acquainted with 
many interesting types of Jewish character, and 
with many incidents which speak eloquently of 
the trials and tribulations which still form a part 
of Jewish experience, of the evils and good 
which result therefrom, and of the influence of 
Jewish teachings working under such con- 
ditions. It has seemed to him desirable to pre- 
[vii] 



APOLOGIA PRO LIBRO SUO 

sent some of these to the world in this easily 
grasped and popular form in order to assist in 
the attainment of that comprehension of the 
Jews and their life which is so necessary, if they 
are ever to cease from their present abnormal 
state of mystery and be recognized in their nat- 
ural relation to the general life and religion of 
mankind. Whether he has performed his task 
properly his readers shall judge. 

The Author. 

New York, Ellul, 5665— September, 1905. 



[ viii ] 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 

The Village, Frontispiece 

The Very Spirit of Sabbath Pervaded the Noise- 
less Air, 20 

There They Sat and Stood, in Various Atti- 
tudes, While the Deepening Shadows Made 
Their Figures Ever Vaguer and More Indis- 
tinct, 21 

They Honored the Community Frequently with 
Their Visits, 28 

Reb. Shemayah and Perla, 49 

The Little Horseradish Woman, . . . .84 

There Is Something Commanding, Something In- 
definitely Military and Authoritative About 
Him, 96 

As the Cavalcade Passed a Corner the General 
Heard A Cry, .111 

He Was Nothing but a Commonplace, Every-Day 
Peddler, 131 

A Group of Street-Idlers Were Amusing Them- 
selves AT THE Plight of a Short, Dark-Com- 
PLEXioNED Man Who Stood in Their Midst, . 142 

Nothing Pleased Them Better Than a "Horsey- 
Back" Ride, 172 

The Scissors Grinder, 186 

I Was Left Behind, Gazing Out of the Window 
AT THE Funeral Procession, 196 

The Man Was a Woe-Begone Specimen of Human- 
ity, WITH Hungry Eyes Gazing at You Out of 
a Care- Worn, Furrowed Countenance, . .212 

It's Only Because You're a Jew That You Have 
Any Trouble, 252 

The Game Which Ensued Was Highly Interest- 
ing, 287 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 

NORDHEIM. 

Many persons, perhaps the majority of the 
readers of a certain kind of Jewish literature at 
present in vogue, led astray by the revival and 
improper application of the term Ghetto, have 
an idea that the great mass of the Jewish people 
on the continent of Europe have their habi- 
tations in filthy, noisome slums of the great 
cities, and that it is only in such secluded reser- 
vations, away from the contact or observation 
of the Gentile, that Judaism in its ancient, tra- 
ditional form and pristine vigor, is or can be, 
maintained. In the imagination of such per- 
sons, deceived by prejudiced or sensation-seek- 
ing writers, Judaism is a feeble, pale, cellar plant 
which leads its anaemic existence in darkness 
and slime, but which withers and fades when 
exposed to the fresh, strong breeze and the 
bright, warm sun of heaven. These notions, 

[I] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

however well they may suit the requirements of 
ambitious story-tellers, are incorrect both as re- 
gards the alleged facts and the inferences drawn 
therefrom. In the greatest part of the civilized 
world the Jews are not confined, whether by 
compulsion or choice, to particular sections of 
the cities, but dwell freely among their Gentile 
fellow-citizens everywhere; nor is the law of 
Moses forced to flee for refuge to darksome 
purlieus, where the humblest and lowliest of 
Judah's strain drag out a wretched existence as 
unwilling neighbors of the vicious and the crim- 
inal, but finds multitudes of sincere upholders 
and adherents in the high places of the lands 
among the happy possessors of what mankind 
esteems highest, culture and wealth. In fact, it 
is not to the great cities at all that we should 
look for the best examples of a living, earnest 
Judaism. Scattered broadcast through the Old 
World, particularly through the lands of central 
and southeastern Europe, may be found to this 
day thousands of Jewish communities in villages 
and rural towns which are in very truth " wells 
of purest Judaism undefiled," and living refu- 
tations of all the pet theories of the modern 
Jewish (?) novelist. Our brethren in those little 
rural communities breathe the purest, health- 
giving air that nature gives forth over moun- 

[2] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



tain, field, and forest, and have never found in 
the keen ozone any faith-destroying, heretical 
qualities. They dwell side by side with the 
Gentile and meet him continually in all the com- 
mercial and social relations of life, but they have 
never found in the free intercourse any dread 
influence subversive of Judaic beliefs and prac- 
tices. Indeed, few of them are aware, except in 
a hazy and indirect manner, that Judaism is in 
danger in this modern age of ours. They live 
as their ancestors did before them, honest, sim- 
ple, earnest, sincere Jewish lives ; happy in their 
state of moderate wealth or endurable, light- 
pressing poverty; keeping their Sabbaths and 
their holidays, fasting and feasting in the pre- 
scribed seasons, laying Tephillin on week-days 
and eating only permitted food at all times, 
giving freely of their means to assist the poor 
and afflicted, and accepting misfortune with 
resignation as the will of God, and not doubting 
but that this Judaism will continue to exist for 
all time to come. 

Of such a little Kehillah in a German village, 
Nordheim, in the Rhon Mountains of Bavaria, 
and of some of the quaint and interesting per- 
sons that composed it, my tale shall be. 

When, as a child, I made my first studies of 
the world around me, one of the objects which 

[3] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

chiefly attracted my childish gaze was a picture 
which hung on the wall of the parlor of my 
home. It was a crude and inartistic picture, 
awkward in delineation and barbarous in color ; 
but it was full of interest to me, for it spoke to 
me of a place far across the sea, a place which 
oft-told but never wearisome tales had sur- 
rounded with a bright halo of romance, and 
which my eager imagination had glorified into 
a veritable fairyland ; it was a picture of a vil- 
lage in that Germany which seemed so far away 
and so unreal, my mother's native place, Nord- 
heim vor der Rhon. These sentiments were 
not entirely, nor even mainly, due to the picture 
itself, but to the descriptions with which mother 
iT'y used to accompany it ; for mother dear, God 
rest her soul, among her other good qualities, 
had a most vivid and emphatic way of impress- 
ing her ideas upon her auditors. She was not 
only in loving tenderness and devotion the ideal 
of a Jewish parent, but a most charming and 
entertaining raconteuse, full to the brim of rem- 
iniscences of her youth, an animated chroni- 
cle of persons and events, and capable of de- 
scribing both the humorous and the pathetic in 
an inimitably touching and taking manner. In 
addition to all this she was a living refutation of 
the favorite anti-Semitic calumny, that Jews have 

[4] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



no sentiment of patriotism. She cherished in 
her heart the warmest and most unquenchable 
love for her native land, while her attachment 
to the memory of her birthplace, its ties and its 
traditions, approached the dignity and sincerity 
of a religion. No wonder that from such a stir- 
ring and enthusiastic source I imbibed the live- 
liest interest in all that concerned Nordheim 
before-the-Rhon, its inhabitants and its welfare. 
I would stand for hours at a time before that 
crude little picture on our parlor wall, gazing at 
the array of houses with startlingly red roofs 
and dazzlingly white walls, at the fields of bril- 
liant green and the trees with trunks as straight 
as ramrods and mathematically elliptical foli- 
age, and at the tin-soldier-like gendarme whom 
the rustic artist, who must have inclined either 
to realism or militarism (I could never de- 
termine which) had depicted marching, with 
martial air and projecting bayonet, along the 
country highway. 

But I saw none of these things. My imagi- 
nation gazed beyond these externals and saw 
the quaint and touching figures of those who 
had their abode in this secluded retreat, and I 
found myself wondering whether it would ever 
be my privilege to see the spot where mother's 
cradle had stood, and to sojourn th^re where life 

[5] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

flowed on in such pure and peaceful and virtuous 
channels, far away from the crush and the tur- 
moil, the evil and the anguish of the great world, 
where the peasants were simple, honest folk and 
the Jews all faithful to their ancestral religion, 
where old age was venerated and childhood 
obedient and respectful, where such things as 
violating the Sabbath and eating Trefoth were 
unknown. 

My opportunity came in my twenty-first year. 
Circumstances, the nature of which need not be 
dilated upon here, made it my privilege to spend 
several years in Europe in study. But while I 
awaited, in joyous anticipation, the day when I 
should enter upon my course at the North Ger- 
man University and Seminary, at which I was 
to prepare for my life's vocation, it was with an 
absorbing interest, I might almost say with a 
passionate longing, that I looked forward to 
actually seeing Nordheim, and actually knowing 
the persons and conditions of which I had heard 
and dreamt so much. Never shall I forget the 
day when, having crossed the stormy Atlantic 
and travelled by train a day and a night south- 
ward from Hamburg, I alighted at Mellrichstadt, 
the railroad station nearest to Nordheim — four 
English miles — and saw upon the platform, 
waiting for me, a pleasant-faced, dark complex- 

[6] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



ioned youth, whom I had never seen before, and 
yet whom I at once recognized, for his features 
appeared in more than one counterfeit present- 
ment in a well-worn family album, over which 
I had often pored more than three thousand 
miles away. It was Cousin Solomon, and he 
had come to the station, having been notified by 
letter of my prospective arrival, to meet his 
American relative, and to conduct him to Nord- 
heim and the bosom of his family. Then and 
there I recognized the reality and the value of 
sentiment. Here were two persons, born in 
different and widely separated lands, speaking 
different mother tongues and citizens of differ- 
ent nations, who had never seen each other be- 
fore ; and yet so powerful were the ties of kin- 
ship and the remembrance of common blood 
and a common origin, that they sufficed to 
bridge over all that yawning gap of separation 
and to bring heart to heart and lip to lip in a 
union of truest love and affection. Our recog- 
nition was mutual and instantaneous. We pro- 
nounced each other's names, fell upon each 
other's necks, and a moment later were chatting 
as intimately as though we had met daily during 
all our previous lives. Three years long I spent 
my summer vacations at Nordheim, and I came 
to know and to love it and the surrounding re- 

[7] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

gion so well that when the hour of final parting 
came, it cost my heart more than one pang and 
drew more tears from my eyes than I should 
like to confess. What a charming ideal life of 
sentiment and pleasure we led there, Cousin 
Solomon and I. We seemed to be hovering in 
a dream world, far too sweet and beautiful to 
be real. We were at once students on a holi- 
day, friends of nature, children without a shade 
of care or anxiety, and sincere, devout worship- 
pers at the shrine of Israel's God. We climbed 
together the steep and lofty mountains which 
abound in that region, and when we had reached 
the summit we gazed with delight at the daz- 
zling panorama spread out before us and inhaled 
deep draughts of the pure, cool, health-giving 
air. We wandered for hours through the dense 
pine forests or undertook long trips on foot to 
distant villages or spots that were interesting for 
some historical or other reason. Once we made 
a long trip, in company with Aunt Caroline, to 
the village of Burghauen, on the other side of 
the Rhon Mountains, to visit some relatives 
there. We travelled in a carriage belonging to 
the Duke of Weimar. We had hired it from 
the duke's manager, who was not above turn- 
ing an honest penny with his master's property 
when occasion offered. The carriage bore the 

[8] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 

ducal escutcheon, and our coachman and foot- 
man wore the duke's Hvery; and as we rolled 
through the various villages in grand style, the 
peasants and their wives and children all came 
out and made deep and reverent obeisance. I 
was quite astounded, but Aunt Caroline and 
Cousin Solomon were so amused that they could 
hardly keep straight faces. Both they and I 
bowed to the right and to the left and answered 
the salutations right royally, at which the people 
seemed highly gratified. 

"What is the reason of all this," said I (to 
whom this unexpected enthusiasm was ex- 
tremely puzzling) to Solomon. " Do they make 
so much fuss about everybody ? " " Why, no ! " 
said Solomon, laughing heartily. " They recog- 
nize the carriage and the lackeys, and they take 
us for members of the ducal family. They 
think mamma is the duchess, and you and me 
they take for the young dukes." 

But, altogether, everybody was extremely 
friendly in Nordheim and vicinity, Jew or Gen- 
tile, peasant, merchant or teacher, acquaintance 
or stranger, without exception. It was '' gruesse 
Gottl' and '' guten Morgen^' and '' guten Tagl' 
and " lebe wohll' and " auf Wiedersehenl' and 
" schlafe wohll' and " angenehme Ruhel' and any 
number of other kindly and sympathetic 

[9] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

phrases, and all said with such evident sincerity 
and good intentions as went quite through one 
and left one feeling warm and charitable and 
kindly disposed toward humanity in general. 
And then the eating, so abundant in quantity, 
so excellent, and more than satisfying in quality. 
At first Aunt Caroline wanted to feed me all 
the time. Six or seven times a day she would 
spread the table and invite me to partake until 
I protested, and by dint of hard pleading in- 
duced her to reduce the number of meals to 
four, with an occasional extra bite in between. It 
makes my mouth water yet to think of the 
'' gefullte Flanken^' and the '' gruenkern Suppel' 
and the '' eingelegte Gaiisebrust',' and the '' Zwie- 
beltatchcrl' and the '' gesetzte Bohnenl' and the 
'' Shabboskugell' and the thousand and one 
other delicacies with which dear Aunt Caroline 
used to regale us, and to which healthy appe- 
tites and youth gave a zest compared with which 
ambrosia must have been poor. And, oh, the 
beer! Such magnificent stuff! So different 
from the wretched pretence which we call by 
that name in America. I quite lost all my tem- 
perance principles in Nordheim and have never 
recovered them since. 

But along with this joyous physical life there 
went a spiritual life no less joyous and satisfy- 
[lo] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



ing. We were Jews there in Nordheim. The 
Sabbath was a guest whose arrival was looked 
forward to with the most eager anticipation, 
and which seemed to cast a magic, sacred 
glamour over all the Jewish houses in the vil- 
lage, transforming the prosaic, work-a-day ap- 
pearance of persons and things into an as- 
pect of dignity and holiness. All day long on 
Fridays until about an hour before nightfall, a 
tremendous bustle of preparation was going on. 
Such cleaning and scrubbing and polishing, 
such baking and boiling and brewing! It 
seemed as though every house was being turned 
topsy-turvy. On that day, too, the men folks 
came home several hours sooner than usual, and 
then there was added the turmoil of the taking of 
baths and the polishing of shoes, and the taking 
out of clean shirts and Sabbath suits, and dress- 
ing and getting ready. But about an hour 
before nightfall all the noise and clamor and 
turmoil ceased and Sabbath stillness began to 
settle over the village. The quaint old seven- 
cornered Sabbath lamps were taken out and the 
Jewish housewives lit them, pronouncing at the 
same time the prescribed benediction. How 
charming and yet impressive Aunt Caroline 
looked as she stood with uplifted hands and rev- 
erential mien before the sacred lamp, the Sab- 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

bath cap of dainty lace and ribbons surmount- 
ing her refined and regular features of purest 
Hebrew type, while from her lips issued in the 
holy tongue the words of the benediction, 
" Blessed art Thou, O Lord, our God, King of 
the universe, who hast sanctified us with Thy 
commandments and bidden us light the Sab- 
bath lamp." 

A half-hour later all were assembled in the 
little synagogue, which was filled to the very 
last seat, for the Nordheim synagogue was 
not built on the American plan. In our pro- 
gressive country we build great and imposing 
synagogues and temples for the benefit, not 
of the people who regularly attend — for them a 
very small edifice would suffice — but of those 
who pay the Almighty the honor of a visit only 
once or twice a year. But the Nordheim syna- 
gogue had accommodations only for its regular 
members and attendants, and these were ex- 
pected to be in their places on every occasion 
of public services. Sometimes somebody would 
be missing at service, and then it used to amuse 
me to notice with what anxious solicitude in- 
quiry would be made of his family as to the 
cause of his absence. It appeared to be taken 
for granted that only illness or some other 
equally grave reason could induce any one to be 

[12] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



absent from synagogue at time of worship. I 
could not refrain from smiling when I thought 
how pointless such solicitude would be in 
America, where, on the contrary, the question 
addressed to any average Jew, should he present 
himself in the synagogue on any but two or 
three days of the year, would be, " What brings 
you to Shoo I to-day? " 

The services in the synagogue at Nordheim 
were intensely interesting to me, not, indeed, be- 
cause of the artistic rendition of the ritual or the 
technical excellence of the singing, but because 
of the spirit of devotion and earnestness by which 
they were pervaded. I have listened to num- 
bers of cantors who certainly rank higher in their 
profession than the humble individual who acted 
in the capacity of village teacher, Chazan, and 
Shochet in Nordheim, and the musical perform- 
ances of trained and paid choirs are undeniably 
superior to the untutored though vociferous 
efforts of a rustic congregation. But all these 
have something perfunctory and mechanical 
about their efforts which deprive them of real 
charm and of power to touch and move the 
spirit. One remains coldly critical in listening 
to them, and judges them solely from the stand- 
point of professional ability and artistic merit. 
Not so in Nordheim. There was an all-pervad- 
[13] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ing sense of earnestness and reality in the wor- 
ship which made one forget the how of the 
prayers and hymns and think only of the what. 
Faith, deep and firm as the rocks, ingrained 
into the very tissue and life of the spirit, looked 
forth from those simple, earnest faces, shone 
forth from those sincere and expressive eyes. 
This spirit gave the familiar ritual an entirely 
new vividness and impressiveness. The wor- 
shippers seemed to be speaking directly to their 
heavenly Father, and when, at the close of the 
Lecho Dodi, the hymn of welcome to the Sab- 
bath, all rose and faced the entrance, I half ex- 
pected to see Queen Sabbath herself, clad in 
bridal robes of celestial purity, enter through 
the portals of that humble house of God. 

The prayers concluded, the worshippers 
greeted each other with hearty " Good Shab- 
bos" salutation and wended their homeward 
way. The scenes in the homes were in some 
respects even more impressive than in the syna- 
gogue. Uncle Koppel's house particularly was 
resplendent with a blaze of glory. The dining- 
room, which also served as parlor and best room, 
was brilliantly lighted, and in the midst of the 
effulgence shone, with especial radiance, the 
Sabbath lamp. The table was covered with a 
linen cloth of snowy whiteness and laden with 

[14] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



the finest porcelain, glass, and silver that the 
household could boast, while at the head of the 
table, opposite the seat sacred to the master of 
the house, stood the two Sabbath loaves covered 
with a beautifully embroidered satin cover; and 
at their side the silver Kiddusk-hQ.2k.^r and the 
decanter, from which the wine of blessing was 
to be drawn. Before Kiddush Uncle Koppel 
" marched " with the youngest of the children, 
and presented a picturesque sight indeed as he 
paraded up and down the room, carrying the in- 
fant of the family upon his right arm and lead- 
ing the next youngest by his left hand, chanting 
meanwhile the hymn of welcome to the Sabbath 
angels. Then came the solemn benediction 
when the children all presented themselves with 
bowed heads before their parents, and were 
blessed by them in the words pronounced by 
Aaron of old over the tribes of Israel, with an 
added invocation in the case of sons that the 
Lord might make them like Ephraim and Ma- 
nasseh, and of daughters that they might be- 
come like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. 
Then came Kiddush, and the formal washing of 
hands and breaking of bread, and then the Sab- 
bath meal. 

Oh, the pleasure of that Sabbath meal! 
Everybody had a magnificent appetite on Fri- 
[15] 



PROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

day evening ; which was really no wonder, see- 
ing that every one had worked and hurried all 
day in preparation for the holy evening; and 
that, in accordance with the religious precept, 
no one had eaten any substantial meal all day in 
order that he should be able to do justice to the 
first meal of the Sabbath. The dishes were va- 
rious and all excellent, for they were seasoned 
with that finest of spices — the Sabbath — which 
gave them a flavor all their own, and which the 
most famous chefs of European or American 
hotels would strive in vain to rival; but the 
piece de resistance was undoubtedly the fish. 
Trout of the finest quality, speckled beauties, 
which had only been drawn a few hours before 
from the icy waters of some one of the mountain 
streams of the Rhon gebirge, they made their 
appearance at the table cold, from a sojourn of 
several hours in the rock-hewn cellar, which 
served the purpose of our modern refrigerators, 
and with a sweet-and-sour sauce of the consist- 
ency of jelly. They were consumed with an 
avidity which boded ill for their speckled con- 
freres of the mountain streams and shady pools. 
After the meal and the formal pronouncing of 
grace, in which all joined with a volume of 
sound which attracted the attention of the vil- 
lage boys in the street outside, each one followed 
[i6] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



his or her own sweet will. Some conversed, 
some read devotional books, some dozed until 
the flickering of the lights betokened their ap- 
proaching extinction and warned all that the 
hour of retiring had arrived. Then with pleas- 
ant " good-night " wishes, each sought the shel- 
ter of his or her couch. 

On the morrow the observance of the Sab- 
bath was continued in a manner worthy of its 
inauguration. The morning service, which be- 
gan at eight and was over at half-past ten, was 
followed by Kiddush and the second of the 
three prescribed Sabbath meals. Here the chief 
feature was the " gesetztes Essenl' or dishes which 
had been cooked on Friday and kept warm in a 
special kind of oven known as " Setzo/en^' in 
which they were surrounded by a gentle heat 
which neither burned nor dried them, until they 
were served at the Sabbath meal. Some per- 
sons assert that food cooked a day previous to 
being consumed is injurious to the health, but 
to judge by the favor in which it was held in 
Nordheim, such can hardly be the case. Of 
course not all food is capable of being treated in 
this manner; but that which is, acquires a spe- 
cial taste and a mellowness which makes it pecul- 
iarly palatable. 

On our Sabbath menu we had '' gesetzte Boh- 
2 [17] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

nen^' the dish of whose glories Heine has sung, 
and '' Shabbos-Kugell' to whose merits even a 
poet could hardly do justice. After dinner 
visits were in order. The younger members of 
the Mishpochoh went to pay their respects to 
their seniors, and the children of the community 
called at the various houses without distinction 
of relationship and were treated to fruits and 
sweetmeats. What impressed me on the part 
of the children was their extremely respectful 
and bashful behavior, amounting almost to 
timidity. They would knock timidly at the 
outside door ; and on being bidden to enter would 
step in on their tip-toes, timidly utter the Sab- 
bath greeting, and then stand in a row without 
opening their mouths until they were told to be 
seated. They would not touch anything or do 
anything without permission, and when given 
fruit or sweetmeats would modestly utter words 
of thanks and eat them in silence. Their 
actions were typical of the German-Jewish 
standard of child behavior. The children who 
were old enough to receive tuition were also ex- 
amined on the Sabbath in the subjects in which 
they had been instructed during the week. 
Great was the joy of parents whose son trans- 
lated with fluency the Sedrah of the week, and 
the capable lad always received his reward in 
[i8] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



the shape of an extra portion of fruit or sweet- 
meats. 

After the visits and the examinations came 
the Sabbath nap. The Sabbath nap! Let 
no one speak of it in tones of levity or dis- 
respect, for it stood in high esteem indeed in 
Nordheim and other communities of the same 
type. Every one deemed it an absolutely indis- 
pensable feature of correct Sabbath observance ; 
and though few of the people were learned in 
Hebrew lore, yet nearly all were able to quote 
in defence of their practice the cabalistic inter- 
pretation that the letters of the word nn^ (Sab- 
bath) are equivalent in meaning to the sentence 
^wn n2m hjk^, which may be parodied as " 6'leep 
on SaBBath, the heart delighte 7i7." 

Between the hours of i and 4 p.m., the Nord- 
heim Kehillah, to use a heathenish illustration, 
lay locked in the arms of Morpheus. On sofas 
and beds or in arm-chairs, within the house or 
before the doors, the worthy Baale Batim, their 
spouses and children slumbered, dozed, and re- 
posed. The cat slept under the stove, the dog 
dozed peacefully before the door, the very horses 
and cattle stood motionless as statues within 
their stalls and seemed to slumber. It was a 
most peaceful, somnolent, soporific scene. Not a 
sound disturbed the quiet of the village streets, 

[19] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

for the Gentile peasants were all abroad in the 
fields. The very spirit of Sabbath pervaded the 
noiseless air, and everywhere were rest, repose, 
and tranquillity universal. I, too, who had never 
been accustomed to sleep by day, could not re- 
sist the drowsy influence of the general exam- 
ple, and after the first week or two took my 
Sabbath nap as regularly as any, and found it 
most agreeable. At four all were awake again 
and then the third Sabbath meal, which was 
usually light, and consisted only of coffee, cake, 
and fruit, was partaken of. The congregation 
then gathered in the synagogue for afternoon 
service, at the conclusion of which the Chazan 
"learned Shiur' — that is to say, read to the 
assembled auditors extracts from a Hebrew de- 
votional work, in German translation, accom- 
panying them with a running commentary of 
his own. His diction was poor, his expressions 
the reverse of elegant, and his train of thought 
in absolute disagreement with most of the pet 
theories of the age; but I doubt whether the 
most eloquent and scientifically trained of mod- 
ern preachers ever had as attentive and sym- 
pathetic a congregation as he. Now came the 
charmed time known as " between Minchah and 
Maarivl' the period most attractive and pleas- 
ing to the Jewish heart of all the Sabbath day. 
[20] 




THE VERY SPIRIT OF SABBATH PERVADED THE NOISELESS AIR 

Page 20 





ifc. :; 




fe .,'.i ,: 







THERE THEY SAT AND STOOD, IN VARIOUS ATTITUDES, WHILE THE 
DEEPENING SHADOWS MADE THEIR FIGURES EVER 

VAGUER AND MORE INDISTINCT Page 21 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



As the light of the sun is most beautiful and 
glorious just before it sets, so the Sabbath seems 
sweetest and most delightful when it is about to 
depart. The afternoon prayers and the Shiur 
were both concluded ; the day was beginning to 
grow dark, but almost an hour must still elapse 
before the Sabbath would be over and the even- 
ing prayer of the first day might be recited. 
Some of the people went for a brief stroll in the 
fields ; others went into the inn where they were 
furnished with beer and other light refreshments 
without payment; for the Gentile inn-keeper 
knew well that the observant Jew bore no 
money on his person on the Sabbath day, but 
most remained in the synagogue or gathered in 
the court-yard before the sacred edifice and 
passed the time in pleasant conversation or the 
relation of anecdotes. There they sat and 
stood, in various attitudes, while the deepening 
shadows made their figures ever vaguer and 
more indistinct, and enjoyed the freest oppor- 
tunity for unrestricted conversation and inter- 
change of thoughts that all the week afforded. 

All possible subjects came up for discussion 
"between Minchah and MaarivT The poli- 
tician of the Kehillah discoursed learnedly on 
the European situation and the various prob- 
lems of statecraft involved in the relations of 

[21] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

the great Powers to each other, the philosopher 
shed the Kght of his wisdom on the great scien- 
tific movements of the day and the wondrous 
inventions which are revolutionizing civili- 
zation, while the Talmudist elucidated knotty 
and interesting questions of rabbinical law or 
lamented the downfall of religious sentiment in 
these evil days and contrasted these with the 
unyielding fidelity and loyalty of yore. They 
all found attentive and eager listeners, to whom 
their words were as the very revelation of the 
Urim and Tummim; but they did not arouse 
the same degree of enthusiasm as the story- 
teller. This accomplished narrator of witty 
tales and humorous anecdotes held the hearts 
of his auditors in his hands ; and when his turn 
came and he began to draw upon his apparently 
inexhaustible stock of Mesholim, an immense 
enthusiasm took possession of the entire au- 
dience, and there was no limit to their enjoy- 
ment of the numberless good points he made. 
They were indeed amusing, those tales of im- 
pecunious rabbis, and still more impecunious 
Backurim.oi awkward bridegrooms and homely 
brides, of witty Poles and scheming Schnorrers. 
But they were more. They were instructive, 
for they reflected the inner life of the Jewish 
people, and showed, even if from a humorous 

[22] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



point of view, the many trials and difficulties by 
which they were encompassed. 

But now the shadows had deepened into night, 
and the Shammas, who had th^ privilege of read- 
ing the service before the rest of the congregation 
in order that he might be permitted to perform 
the work-a-day task of lighting the lights, inter- 
rupted the pleasant tales of the story-*eller by a 
brief notification that the time for prayer had 
arrived. The evening service was brief, lasting 
in all hardly more than a quarter of an hour. 
Its chief feature was the Havdoloh, in which the 
Chazan pronounced a number of benedictions 
over wine, spices, and a peculiar braided wax 
candle, and thanked the Lord that He makes 
a distinction between light and darkness, be- 
tween Sabbath and week-day, and between 
Israel and the nations. The service concluded, 
the worshippers greeted each other with hearty 
*' Gut Woch " and repaired to their homes, but 
not yet to resume work-a-day tasks. 

It was an unwritten law in Nordheim that the 
Saturday night was not to be given over to labor 
or business, except in cases of emergency. The 
women were particularly zealous in following 
this rule. Instead sociability reigned supreme. 
The men indulged in friendly card-play, the 
married women sat together in groups and gos- 

[23] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

siped, the youths and maidens played musical 
instruments, sang, and danced. These pleasant 
occupations were continued several hours, so 
that on Saturday nights the worthy Jewish 
burghers retired much later than usual. 

The sincerity and thoroughgoing consistency 
which marked the observance of the Sabbath 
were characteristic of the religious life of the 
Nordheim community throughout the year. It 
would be inconsistent with the scope of this 
sketch to go into all the details of religious life 
and practice ; but suffice it to say that Jewish 
piety, as illustrated in Nordheim, was eminently 
earnest, emphatic, and genuine. The very chil- 
dren possessed the spirit of martyrs. They 
would have endured tortures rather than eat 
forbidden food or violate the Sabbath or any 
other of the holy days. Some of the manifes- 
tations of this piety were quaintly humorous or 
pathetic, according to the viewpoint from which 
they are regarded. The children of Nordheim, 
like children the world over, were very fond of 
fruit and berries. Had they been permitted to 
go into the orchards and gardens and gather 
their sweet products unrestrained, there can be 
no doubt that as much would have disappeared 
down their throats as they brought home. But 
the Nordheim mothers struck upon a shrewd 
[24] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



scheme for circumventing the appetites of their 
sweet-toothed offspring, which did equal credit 
to their ingenuity and their psychological 
knowledge. They would send the children to 
gather fruits or pick berries upon a fast day. 
The plan was as effective as it was beautifully 
simple. The children brought home all that 
they gathered, for no Jewish child in Nordheim 
would have even thought of committing such a 
heinous sin as tasting food on a Taanis, Think 
of applying such a rule to American children ! 
It would be about as effective as trying to re- 
strain a bull with a piece of cotton thread. 

It is recorded of a worthy Nordheim Baal 
Habbayis that he once saw some flies rise from 
his boots and settle upon some hay, which was 
later on eaten by his cows. Now that in itself 
is a trifling and insignificant incident ; but it so 
happened that the boots, in accordance with 
German village custom, had been smeared with 
tallow, which, from the viewpoint of the Jewish 
religious law is Trefah — that is, ritually unclean, 
and forbidden to be eaten. Our worthy Nord- 
heimer at once felt himself burdened in his 
conscience and despatched a special messenger 
post-haste to the rabbi at Gersfeld with an 
inquiry as to whether the milk of those cows 
might lawfully be drunk. This pious scrupu- 
[25] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

losity did not, however, as might be thought, 
involve any gloomy or dreary harshness of sen- 
timent. What we are accustomed to call the 
Puritanical frame of mind was utterly unknown 
in Nordheim. On the contrary, a cheerful and 
pleasant disposition, which made the tone of 
social intercourse extremely agreeable, was the 
all prevalent mood. In individual instances 
this mental tendency was emphasized into pro- 
nounced joviality, and the happy possessors 
thereof became the " Spass macherl' the jesters 
and fun-makers of the community. Woe betide 
the unfortunate individual who acquired a repu- 
tation for sourness and unsociability. He was 
considered a legitimate victim for the gibes and 
jests of the official jokers, and small indeed was 
the meed of sympathy which he received. 

Another instance of the prevailing jocoseness 
was the custom of attaching nicknames to per- 
sons, which were then used instead of their 
proper appellations. It was rarely that any one 
was referred to in Nordheim by his given name, 
the nickname being so universally used as almost 
to displace the real and legal cognomen. These 
nicknames were derived from some personal 
characteristic or some peculiarity arising from 
vocation or experience in life, which had struck 
the village wags as humorous. It was "the 
[26] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



black Elias," or " the long Moses," or " the bold 
Isaac," or " the gentle Sarah," the last two ap- 
pellations being, of course, mildly ironical. One 
individual, who had an undue amount of au- 
dacity in his psychological make-up, was known 
as " der Baishanl' that is, " the bashful or timid 
one," while another who had failed in nearly 
everything he had undertaken was universally 
dubbed "der Mazzeldige Shmuell' that is, 
" lucky Sam." A family, some remote ancestor 
of which had once been imprisoned in a tower 
and escaped therefrom by leaping from the win- 
dow of his cell, was generally known as ''die 
Thurm hupferl' " the tower-hoppers," while six 
brothers, all of whom were over six feet tall and 
stout in proportion, bore the strikingly apposite 
designation of ''die Kinderlichl' that is, "the 
babies." The swineherd, who called his 
charges together by means of a long tin trum- 
pet, from which he emitted shrill and piercing, 
though hardly melodious notes, was styled by 
the Jews " der Baal Tokea^' that is, the blower 
of the Shofar or ram's horn trumpet used in the 
services of the New Year ; while the village con- 
stable, who was an extremely pious Catholic and 
always walked around through the village streets 
on Sundays with a prayer book in his hand, 
from which he read with strait-laced mien and 

[27] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ostentatious devotion, was dubbed '' der Baal 
Tephillahl' that is, the cantor or reader of the 
synagogue services. 

SCHNORRERS. 

The two banes of village life and at the same 
time the most diverting figures therein were the 
Scknorrers and the gendarmes or rural police- 
men. The first-named gentry, wandering Jew- 
ish mendicants, who believed in the socialistic 
doctrine that the world, or at least that part of 
it which professed Judaism, owed them a living, 
were a most interesting set and worthy of a spe- 
cial study in themselves. They honored the 
community frequently with their visits. Some 
were usually visible in the streets at all seasons 
of the year, and the services in the synagogue 
were generally graced by the presence of two or 
three. In most instances they professed intense 
piety and then their Tephillin were larger, their 
Talethim longer, and their prayers louder and 
more ecstatic than those of the rest of the con- 
gregation. They came from anywhere and 
everywhere. Most of them were of Russian or 
Polish origin, but there was a goodly sprinkling 
of individuals of German birth and occasionally a 
Sephardi from Jerusalem or some other Eastern 
region, clad in Oriental robes and with a majes- 
[28] 




THEY HONORED THE COMMUNITY FREQUENTLY WITH THEIR VISITS 

Page 28 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



tic turban upon his head, relieved the monotony 
of Schnorrerdom and added interest and divers- 
ity thereto by his strikingly alien and pictur- 
esque appearance. They came in the most 
diverse guises. Some appeared in the role of 
venerable rabbis with flowing beards, and anx- 
ious to display their learning in the law to 
whomsoever they could induce to listen ; others 
professed to be merchants who had lost their all 
in ill-starred commercial ventures ; while others 
were wandering apprentices — Handwerksbur- 
schen — temporarily out of work. Sometimes 
they were accompanied by their wives, who were 
always more voluble and eloquent than their 
husbands. Sometimes an entire family, grand- 
parents, married sons and daughters and chil- 
dren of all ages, including infants in arms, made 
their appearance and then the resources of 
Nordheim charity were severely strained ade- 
quately to provide for them. 

These Schnorrers were not beggars in the 
ordinary sense. They certainly had no hum- 
ble or suppliant air. They came into the 
house with the air of calling upon old per- 
sonal friends, and seemed to think it an en- 
tirely self-understood and axiomatic matter that 
their co-religionists should take upon them- 
selves the duty of caring for their needs. 

[29] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

Among them many, no doubt, were genuinely 
unfortunate and deserving individuals, but there 
was more than a suspicion that a large propor- 
tion had taken up the pursuit of Schnorring as 
a peculiarly pleasant and profitable vocation. 
Their reliance upon the charitable disposition 
of their brethren in faith was well grounded. 
The Nordheim Jews were guided by the emi- 
nently humane and noble principle that it is 
better that ninety-nine undeserving persons 
should be aided than that one deserving person 
should be refused the assistance he required; 
and, consequently, every applicant for charity, 
unless it was positively known that he was 
unworthy, received the help he craved. This 
help usually took the form of food, lodging, and 
some money or clothing. A sort of system pre- 
vailed. The Schnorrer would first call upon 
the Parnass, or president of the congregation, 
who would then give him a ticket, called Plett, 
a corruption of Billet, upon some member of the 
congregation, entitling the stranger to food and 
lodging. These tickets were issued in rotation, 
and were usually cheerfully honored. Some of 
the members even had a predilection for enter- 
taining these destitute brethren, and would rival 
each other in the numbers they accommodate. 
It was amusing to hear one boast that he had 
[30] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



harbored, let us say twenty-seven, Schnorrers 
during the year, only to be told by another, 
with triumphant mien, that the number of his 
non-paying guests had been thirty-five. The 
most celebrated hostess of this kind was a widow 
named Hannah. This warm-hearted daughter 
of Israel strove to fulfil literally the precept of 
the sages, " Let the poor be the children of thy 
house." The days were few when her house 
did not contain some '' guesf' ; and she would 
give him of her best, and wait upon him as 
though his presence was the most distinguished 
honor. When asked once how it was that she, 
although not a woman of means, was always 
ready to receive needy strangers, far more so, 
indeed, than persons of far greater wealth, Han- 
nah answered : " Why, that is a very simple 
matter. All that one needs is a Lef and a 
Loeffeiy 

Altogether, the mental attitude of the Nord- 
heim Jews toward their needy and mendicant 
co-religionists was very different from that 
which prevails to-day; at any rate, in Amer- 
ica. At present the unfortunates who de- 
pend upon the aid of their supposedly sympa- 
thetic brethren are considered a nuisance; an 
unsightly excrescence upon the body social to 
be abolished by all means, if possible. The 

[31] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

wretched applicant for relief is rigidly scruti- 
nized and interrogated by lynx-eyed committees 
until he is made to feel as though he were a 
criminal on trial for his life. A domiciliary 
visit is paid to his home by some surly " inves- 
tigator," whose efficiency is measured by the 
number of unfavorable reports he makes. And 
woe betide the miserable one whose habitation 
shows some traces of neatness and gentility, 
and where some humble ornaments, relics, per- 
haps, of happier days, have been suffered to 
remain, and have not found their way into the 
pawnshop. Such a one is at once declared an 
"undeserving case"; fordoes not his dwelling 
show that he is still possessed of means, and his 
application is at once summarily and without 
mercy rejected. But Nordheim knew nothing 
of such uncharitable charity, such inhuman hu- 
manity. The disposition there was truly chari- 
table in the kindlier, and hence nobler, sense of 
the word. Poverty was looked upon as a nec- 
essary and inevitable feature of human existence, 
as, indeed, a part of the Divine order of the 
world ; for had not He said in His law, " The 
poor shall not cease from the midst of the land " ? 
The unfortunates who had been selected by 
some mysterious dispensation of Providence to 
bear the hard burden of poverty were the ob- 

[32] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



jects of real and genuine commiseration, and 
every effort was made to alleviate their sad con- 
dition. And if some of them did occasionally 
resort to deception or petty misrepresentation 
in order to secure a larger benefaction than 
would otherwise have fallen to his share, there 
was no horror-stricken outcry, no show of vir- 
tuous indignation, such as our high-salaried or 
amateur charity experts would indulge in ; but 
people merely shook their heads, rather pitying- 
ly than otherwise, and would say: " Poor fellow! 
he has little enough in this world, God knows. 
No wonder that he tried to get a little more." 
Indeed, if the Schnorrer was really a shrewd 
fellow and his trick a well-devised one, he was 
far more apt to arouse amusement than resent- 
ment, and would actually profit by his nimble 
wit. This I saw well illustrated shortly after my 
arrival in Nordheim. One day a Schnorrer 
presented himself with an expression of utter 
woe upon his countenance before Uncle Kop- 
pel, and in heart-breaking accents informed him 
that he had just received news that he had 
become an OveL " Alas, woe is me," he wailed. 
" My poor, dear wife in Poland is dead ! What 
shall I do without her? Who will care for my 
poor, unfortunate orphans ? How shall I keep 
the Shivah for her, as is due to her memory, I 
3 \.ZZ\ 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

who have no home and no means?" It need 
hardly be stated that the sad case of the stricken 
widower aroused the most profound sympathy 
among the Jews of Nordheim. Uncle Koppel 
at once placed his house at the disposal of the 
unfortunate man in order that he might proper- 
ly observe the seven days of mourning, and 
most of the members of the congregation 
offered to attend the mourning services morn- 
ing and evening. Aunt Caroline looked well 
after his comfort, provided him with four or five 
square meals daily and a good bed at night. At 
the conclusion of the seven days a substantial 
purse was made up for his benefit and he de- 
parted, showering blessings upon the heads of 
all the Nordheim Kehillah^ and vowing that he 
would never forget their kindness and their true 
spirit of brotherliness. 

A few weeks later Uncle Koppel had occa- 
sion to make a trip on business to Romhild, 
a somewhat distant town in the grand duchy 
of Meiningen. As he never ate dinner when 
away on these trips, it was customary to keep 
his dinner for him, and all the household would 
remain up until his return. It was rather late 
before he returned, after nine in the evening. 
As soon as he had strode through the door 
we all noticed that something unusual had be- 
[34] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



fallen him during the day, and that that some- 
thing had been of an amusing nature. His 
face was wreathed in smiles and he was silently 
chuckling to himself. We all became, of course, 
curious to know the cause of his amusement, 
but none, except Aunt Caroline, ventured to 
ask. " For goodness' sake, husband," said she, 
"what is the matter? Let us know." "Give 
me my meal first, wife," said Uncle Koppel. " I 
need strength before I can tell you." All dur- 
ing the meal Uncle Koppel sat with sides shak- 
ing with ill-suppressed laughter, while curiosity 
and impatience consumed us all. At last, his 
meal concluded and grace recited. Uncle Kop- 
pel began his story. " I heard something in 
Romhild to-day of our Schnorrer," said he; 
" the one who kept Shivah in our house." " In- 
deed," we all vociferated, "what was it.f*" "I 
called first on Moses Rosenbaum," he resumed, 
" in reference to some cattle that I wished to 
buy of him ; and after we had finished our busi- 
ness, he said to me : ' By the way, Koppel, there 
is a very sad case in town at present, and it 
would be a real Mitzvah for you to help us a 
little in relieving it.' ' What is it,' said I. * A 
poor man,' said he, * has suddenly received news 
that his wife died, and he is so destitute that 
he cannot support his orphans without help, 

[35] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

or even keep Shivah. We have helped him 
some and he has been keeping Shivah in my 
house during the week.' ' Aha,' said I, begin- 
ning to smell a rat, ' this is strange. We had 
just such a case in Nordheim a few weeks ago. 
I think I shall go over and see your man.' We 
went over to Rosenbaum's house, and, sure 
enough, it was the same fellow. The Shivah- 
keeping business in Nordheim had suited him 
so well that he was trying it again in another 
place. When I saw him I said : ' My friend, I 
believe I have met you before.' He looked at 
me, not in the least abashed, and said : ' Oh, 
yes, in Nordheim, a few weeks ago.' ' What do 
you mean by this brazen-faced fraud,' I asked, 
* pretending to have lost your wife and swin- 
dling people into charitable gifts by pretending 
to keep Shivah? ' ' Oh, my good sir,' said he, 
with great pretence of earnestness, * it is no 
deceit at all. The first time it was a false re- 
port. My wife had not died. But this time 
she is really dead, really indeed; and if you 
don't believe me you can go yourself to Pitchi- 
chow in Poland, my native town, and convince 
yourself. You can, indeed.' We all laughed 
heartily at the fellow's impudence, and warning 
him to be sure that his wife was dead before he 
sat Shivah for her next time, we bade him be- 

[36] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



gone. He went off with great alacrity, evident- 
ly glad that he had fared no worse." 

Gendarmes. 

The gendarmes or rural policemen were the 
second bane of village life; but while the 
Schnorrer was looked on with charitable eye, 
for these latter gentry no one had a good word. 
They were detested, thoroughly and intensely. 
As a rule they well deserved the detestation in 
which they were held, for they were pompous, 
insufferable individuals, egregiously proud and 
conceited because of the little authority they 
possessed, and over-eager to display their pow- 
er; in a word, petty tyrants of the worst kind. 
They were equally hated by Jew and Gentile, 
and were not popular even with the judges and 
magistrates, who were often liberal-minded gen- 
tlemen, and who knew well the tyrannical dis- 
position of their rustic retainers. The multi- 
plicity of laws and regulations in the German 
statute book, particularly those referring to 
trade and commerce, gave the gendarmes the 
much-desired opportunity for the display of 
their power; and as the Jews were the chief ele- 
ment engaged in commercial pursuits, they were 
also the chief victims of these rustic arbiters of 
weal and woe. To defeat or discomfit a gen- 

[37] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

darme was a highly meritorious deed, and all 
the community rejoiced in concert when one of 
these potentates had been made the victim of 
some particularly ingenious trick. 

An incident which had happened some time 
previous to my arrival in Nordheim, and which 
all the community were highly enjoying at the 
time of my arrival, will illustrate this disposition. 
There lived in Nordheim a poor, half-witted Jew 
named Meyer, an unfortunate fellow without rel- 
atives or home or means of subsistence, who de- 
pended for his support on the charitable gifts of 
the kind-hearted villagers. Despite his mental 
infirmity, Meyer possessed, as is not seldom the 
case with the weak-minded, quite a stock of 
humor; and as he was always cheerful and 
pleasant, and was continually doing odd and 
amusing things, " Shoteh Meyerle," or " Little 
Meyer the fool," as he was called, enjoyed con- 
siderable popularity. Everybody, rich and poor, 
high and low, Jew and Gentile, knew him well. 
Everybody had a friendly greeting for him when 
met on the road; nobody, not even the most 
unruly boys, would harm him in any way or 
permit him to be harmed by others. He had 
free access to every house, and enjoyed alto- 
gether liberties and privileges not possessed by 
any other member of the community. One day 

[38] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



it chanced that Shoteh Meyerle determined, in 
accordance with his wont, to visit the adjoining 
village of Willmars to obtain some gifts. The 
day was hot, the road was long and dusty, and 
Meyer soon felt that rest and recuperation 
would be agreeable. These could not be had 
on the dusty road, and he, therefore, stepped 
aside into a field where there was a fine tree, in 
whose cool shade he sat him down and reposed. 
This act, it is true, was illegal, for the agrarian 
regulations of the Bavarian state strictly pro- 
hibit the stepping upon cultivated fields on the 
part of others than the proprietors, or those to 
whom they give permission. But what recked 
Meyer for that; he was, in a measure, above 
the law. He could violate the solemn enact- 
ments of the code with impunity, for the light in 
which he was viewed by the community enabled 
him to say, like a celebrated American politician 
of later date, " What's the Constitution between 
friends?" Meyer, therefore, sat him down on 
the cultivated field of Farmer Dietrich without 
having obtained his formal permission, but with- 
out the least fear of consequences. This time, 
however, he was in error. A new gendarme 
had recently come to Nordheim, a stranger 
from a different region, unacquainted with the 
people and their ways, but with a soul longing 

[39] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

to acquire distinction by making some brilliant 
arrests. His reputation as a surly and churlish 
fellow had preceded him, and every one had 
scrupulously avoided him and taken particular 
care not to come into conflict with any of the 
numerous statutes and police regulations; so 
that hitherto no one had fallen into his clutches, 
and his ambition for distinction had as yet had 
no opportunity to be gratified. This particular 
morning he was walking along the road, medi- 
tating upon his ill luck (as he considered it), and 
cursing the people of Nordheim and vicinity for 
an absurdly law-abiding crowd. What especially 
grieved him was that no Jew had yet fallen into 
his hands, for he was a true anti-Semite ; and to 
haul up one of the accursed Semites on some 
good and heavy charge was incense to his soul. 
While thus marching along the highway and 
meditating, he beheld a man sitting upon a 
stone in a field, whose appearance clearly in- 
dicated that he was not a peasant nor a field 
laborer, and who, therefore, had probably no 
right to be there. It was, of course, our friend 
Meyer; but our doughty gendarme knew him 
not, and was not aware of the peculiar status 
of immunity which he possessed. "Aha!" 
thought the gendarme, his soul filled with joy 
at the idea of at last making an arrest. " A 
[40] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



law-breaker ! Probably a wandering apprentice 
{Wanders burse k) or itinerant merchant {Han- 
delsman) who does not know that I, the zealous 
and faithful watchman of the law, am in the 
neighborhood, and who has therefore dared to 
invade the sacred precincts of the fields! I 
must approach cautiously lest he see me while 
still afar, and escape." Thus thinking, he be- 
gan cautiously to draw near to the neighbor- 
hood of the suspected violator of the law, slink- 
ing behind bushes and walls so as not to reveal 
his presence until he should be in the imme- 
diate vicinity of his intended victim, when he 
would pounce upon him as the tiger springs 
upon his prey. 

But, cunning as the gendarme was, Shoteh 
Meyerle was still more cunning. He had seen 
the bright uniform and shining musket of the 
pompous champion of the law when they first 
appeared at the distant turning of the Ostheim 
chaussee. He at once understood his inten- 
tion when he saw him first pause and afterward 
slowly advance, seeking cover behind bushes 
and walls and, with the instinctive cunning 
of the half-witted, he at once resolved to 
baffle his elaborate plan and to have some 
sport with his would-be captor. He remained 
quietly sitting upon his stone, apparently in 

[41] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

entire ignorance of the gendarme's approach 
until just before the latter came into too un- 
comfortable proximity, when he arose and 
began to move leisurely across the fields in 
the direction of the Sommerberg, a forest- 
crowned hill situated somewhat to the northeast 
of the village. At this the gendarme was com- 
pelled to show himself. He burst forth from 
his covering of bushes, leaped upon the field 
and called upon the intruder, as he considered 
him to be, to stand and submit to arrest. In- 
stead of doing so, Meyer continued to move on 
at a somewhat more rapid pace. To realize the 
meaning of this action, one must remember that 
in Germany a person when called upon by the 
police is expected at once to stand and give 
an account of himself, and invariably does so. 
Only one who has the gravest of reasons for not 
desiring police attention would dare to attempt 
to evade them when their attention had once 
been called to him. 

Our worthy gendarme was now convinced 
that he had a dangerous criminal to deal with, 
and his soul thrilled with the hope of making 
a brilliant arrest ; one that would secure him 
favorable notice from above, rapid promotion, 
and perhaps immortality in the annals of crim- 
inalistic achievement. He shouted to Meyer at 

[42] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



the top of his voice to halt, breaking at the same 
time into a run and dashing toward him. But 
Meyer did not halt. On the contrary, he too 
began to run, and was soon speeding over hill 
and dale, hotly pursued by the now thoroughly 
enraged officer. 

Who can fitly describe the terrors and the glo- 
ries of that extraordinary race ? Meyer was thin 
and light and active, possessed of splendid wind 
and as fleet as a deer. He led the gendarme 
a merry chase, indeed, over hills and down 
into valleys, through forests and over brooks, 
through corn-fields, meadows, and gardens. 
But the gendarme was a strong man and game, 
though rather heavy from overmuch eating and 
beer-drinking; weighed down with his heavy 
musket, and sadly out of condition through lack 
of exercise. Filled with rage and determined to 
make a prisoner of this extraordinary criminal, 
he panted and toiled on in pursuit, despite 
weariness and perspiration. Meyer could easily 
have distanced him, but had no intention of 
doing so ; and therefore so controlled his pace 
as to remain always in sight of his pursuer, and 
not permit the latter to lose hope and give up. 

Thus the chase continued until hunter and 
hunted, having covered more than four miles of 
country, found themselves at the gates of Mell- 

[43] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

richstadt, the chief town of the district and the 
seat of the district court, which at that time, as 
Meyer well knew, was in session. Here, Meyer 
pretending to have grown weary, gradually 
slackened his pace and permitted himself to be 
seized by his panting and perspiration-bathed 
pursuer. "Aha, accursed Jew! Aha, thou 
rascal!" hoarsely exclaimed the latter, as he 
seized Meyer roughly by the collar, " at last I 
have thee ! Now thou shalt pay bitterly for thy 
villainy and thy audacity. I shall drag thee 
straight to court, and the honorable judges will 
know well how to deal with an audacious 
wretch, such as thou art, and who undoubtedly 
must have committed some great crime or else 
he would not have thus fled from me." Meyer 
vouchsafed no answer and offered no resistance, 
but meekly followed the gendarme to the court- 
house, which was but a short distance away; 
although the triumphant officer in his wrath at 
the unprecedented chase he had been forced to 
make, literally dragged him thither in most un- 
gentle manner. 

The district judge, clad in his silken robes 
of office, and with his velvet cap upon his 
head, was seated at his elevated desk at the 
upper end of the court-room, at either side 
an assessor, when this remarkable pair, the 
[44] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



stout, hot, perspiring gendarme, with face red 
as fire, and the comical, well-known figure of 
the half-witted Jewish beggar entered the 
room, the former holding the latter with an 
iron grasp and with an expression of intense ex- 
citement upon his countenance ; while the latter 
was perfectly cool and self-possessed, and was 
smiling all over with an expression of perfect 
content, as though a run of four miles and ap- 
prehension by the constabulary were every-day 
and quite pleasant experiences in his life. An 
interesting case was going on at the time, and 
the court-room was crowded with a mixed mul- 
titude of peasants, working-men, Jewish mer- 
chants, and landed proprietors, among whom 
the arrival of this singular pair created a lively 
sensation, especially as the mischievous propen- 
sities of Shoteh Meyerle were well known and 
curiosity was rife as to what he was up to now. 
When the gendarme entered the court-room, 
he at first hesitated for a moment, being unde- 
cided as to whether he had the right to appear at 
once before the judges or not; but the supreme 
judge, who knew Shoteh Meyer perfectly well 
(as did also the assessors), and was himself con- 
sumed by curiosity concerning the meaning of 
this extraordinary arrest, at once signalled him 
to advance, which he immediately did. No 

[45] 



FROM THE HEART OP ISRAEL. 

sooner had the gendarme brought his prisoner 
before the bar than the latter made a deep bow 
to the court; and, smiHng affably at the judges, 
said in a voice audible all over the room: 
" Good-morning, Herr Gerichtshof ! Good 
morning, my Herren Assessorenf How are 
you all feeling to-day? I trust you all slept 
well last night!" This, in a court-room, ex- 
tremely unusual salutation was accompanied by 
an extraordinary smirk and a comical flourish 
of the arms, and was greeted by an outburst of 
hearty laughter on the part of the audience ; in 
which the judges joined, a proceeding extremely 
disconcerting to the gendarme, who detected in 
it a note of friendliness to the prisoner, which 
he could not understand, but which boded ill for 
the success of his charge. 

The gendarme was then ordered to tell his 
story, and gave the facts with which we are al- 
ready familiar, laying particular stress on his 
suspicion that the prisoner was guilty of other 
grave crimes, based on the desperate manner in 
which he had endeavored to avoid arrest. This 
story was listened to with evident amusement, 
which added greatly to the embarrassment of 
the valiant captor, who began to feel very cheap, 
though he knew not why. 

Meyer was then called upon for his side of the 
[46] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



case. " Why, most honored judge and assess- 
ors," said Meyer, with a most engaging smile 
and ingenuous air, " I do not know why I have 
been arrested, or why the Herr Gendarme is so 
angry with me. I am only a poor, humble man, 
and I have never done any one any harm in all 
my life. I was resting a little in Farmer Die- 
trich's field this morning, and afterward I took 
a little lively run to Mellrichstadt and I saw 
the Herr Gendarme a few times on the way. 
Hardly had I reached Mellrichstadt when he 
fell roughly upon me and dragged me here, and 
that is all I know." 

"But why were you in Farmer Dietrich's 
field?" asked the supreme judge, trying to 
assume a severe air. " Do you not know that 
is against the law, and that you make yourself 
thereby liable to severe punishment?" "That 
may be, your honor," answered Meyer; "but 
I did not think I was doing any wrong. All 
the people hereabouts are very kind to me, 
and willingly permit me in their fields; and I 
thought it would be the same this time as 
always." 

"But why did you run all the long way 
from Nordheim to Mellrichstadt, and in this 
hot weather, too?" asked the judge, suppress- 
ing by a great effort his amusement. 

[47] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

" The reason I did that," said Meyer, with a 
most innocent expression of face, " was for the 
benefit of my health. I have been suffering a 
great deal lately from constipation, and the doc- 
tor recommended me exercise in the open air." 
This answer was greeted with a shout of laugh- 
ter from all sides. 

" But," continued the judge, still endeavor- 
ing to conduct the inquiry in a judicial man- 
ner, "when you saw the gendarme running 
after you, you should not have kept on with- 
out noticing him. You should have stopped 
to see what he wanted of you. Why did you 
not do so ? " " I should gladly have done so, 
your honor," said Meyer in a tone of perfect 
frankness, " but I did not have the least idea 
that he wanted anything of me. I thought that 
he, too, was probably suffering from consti- 
pation, and that the doctor had also recom- 
mended him exercise for his health." This 
answer literally "brought down the house." 
Amidst a storm of merriment, which utterly 
defied the usual restraints of court discipline, 
the case was dismissed and the crestfallen 
gendarme was overwhelmed with a flood of 
ironical compliments on his zeal as an ofKicial 
and his ability as a runner. Shoteh Meyerle 
was more popular than ever after this incident, 

[48] 




^' 




■To 



0^ 



i 



K 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



but it was many a day before the gendarme 
could muster up courage to look any one in the 
face. 

Reb Shemayah and Other Nordheim 
Worthies. 

O sweet Nordheim! Though thy inhabi- 
tants, particularly those who professed the 
ancient faith of Israel, were but few, how nu- 
merous, comparatively, were those whose char- 
acters for one reason or other were interesting 
and noteworthy. Let me pass a few of these in 
review before the eye of the reader before I close 
this insufficient though veracious chronicle. 
Without a doubt the most important and sig- 
nificant of these persons was Reb Shemayah. 
He was my grandfather, although it was not my 
privilege to behold him in the flesh, for he had 
passed to the better world some years before 
my visit to the village. He was a perfect type 
of the old-time, sincere, loyal, and devout Ger- 
man Jew. He was the son of an old family of 
high repute and standing, which had been set- 
tled in Nordheim for several centuries ; and one 
of his ancestors, whose picture appears in an old 
village chronicle, had enjoyed the unique dis- 
tinction of being the only inhabitant who owned 
a saddle horse. Like all the sons of the better 
4 [49] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

class of Jewish families in former generations 
he received a thorough training in Hebrew and 
Talmudic studies. At the Yeshibah in Fulda, to 
which he had been sent to study rabbinic lore, 
he attained such distinction by the keenness of 
his intellect and the rapidity of his progress 
that the venerable rabbi became warmly at- 
tached to him, and declared that he alone should 
be his successor and his son-in-law, the husband 
of his youngest daughter. 

Just as Reb Shemayah was about to attain 
the loftiest pinnacle of Jewish ambition in 
those days, to become a rabbi and to take as 
his wife the beautiful, dark-eyed daughter of the 
Fulda Rav, an event occurred which destroyed 
his hopes in both these regards, but gave occa- 
sion for the display of his noble idealism. The 
Bavarian Government issued a rescript to the 
effect that in order to wean Jews from the 
petty forms of trading to which they had hith- 
erto been addicted, and to induce them to take 
up agriculture, the law prohibiting Jews from 
owning land, which had been in force for cen- 
turies, was repealed, and it would henceforth be 
permitted them to own and cultivate land, the 
same as all other citizens. 

The beneficent intentions of the new law 
were evident, but the Jews hesitated to take ad- 

[50] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



vantage of it; indeed, they were loath to do so. 
The centuries of unfamiliarity with agriculture 
were partly to blame for this reluctance; but 
then, again, there was also a strong prejudice 
aga;inst the farmer's vocation, which was consid- 
ered low and rude and far inferior in social value 
to that of the merchant or scholar. Reb She- 
mayah did not share these views. His soul was 
all aflame with enthusiasm when he heard of the 
new law which, in his opinion, first put the 
stamp of real citizenship upon the Jew. Not 
only did he consider agriculture intrinsically 
ennobling and the only vocation in consonance 
with true Jewish, Biblical precepts, but he also 
held that the landed class are the real foun- 
dation of the state, while all others are but 
floating parasites. When he saw that his 
brethren were hesitating, and that none ap- 
peared willing to purchase land, he determined 
to give them a good example and himself be- 
came a tiller of the soil. He invested his whole 
fortune in the purchase of a farm near Nord- 
heim, which he himself began actively to cul- 
tivate. Thus did Reb Shemayah renounce the 
rabbinical vocation and become a peasant. It 
was a tremendous sacrifice to make ; but what 
was worse was that he had to renounce his 
sweet bride too, for the old Fulda rabbi was ob- 

[51] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

stinate and had no liking for these new things. 
"A peasant shall not have my daughter," he 
said; and though Reb Shemayah loved sweet 
Miriam well, he loved Israel better, and for the 
sake of his ideal he sacrificed a piece of his own 
heart. Encouraged by Reb Shemayah 's exam- 
ple, many other Jews invested in land and en- 
deavored to learn the art of agriculture ; and at 
present Jewish tillers of the soil are no longer 
rarities. 

In the Nordheim community and the entire 
surrounding country Reb Shemayah enjoyed 
the highest possible reputation. He was uni- 
versally loved, respected, revered. And right 
well did he deserve his high repute, for a char- 
acter of such singular purity, sweetness, and 
nobility belongs to the rare things of earth. 
He was profoundly and exceptionally devout, 
even for those days when piety and religious 
strictness were usual and ordinary in Israel. 
The Torah, the divine law, he considered God's 
most precious gift to mankind, and Israel's mis- 
sion he held to be to practice this law and to 
show its excellence to the world ; and by lives 
of utmost virtue and beneficence to be mekad- 
desh Ha-Shem, i.e., to sanctify the name, and to 
bring honor and glory to Him whose servants 
were thus righteous and good. He lived up to 
^[52] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



his ideal, and his hfe thus became one long rec- 
ord of kindly words and noble deeds. Jews and 
Gentiles alike had in him a sincere friend and a 
trustworthy counsellor, and were equally glad to 
seek his wise counsel and ready assistance in 
their hour of need or distress. The Schnorrers 
had in him a particularly warm sympathizer, so 
that, after his death, they lamented that Nord- 
heim, although charitable beyond the average, 
had lost its halo of glory in their eyes. He 
always believed any tale of woe told him by a 
suppliant stranger and never wearied of assist- 
ing, for the thought of deceit or fraud never 
entered his guileless mind. The learned wan- 
derer had his especial sympathy, and he would 
always welcome such a one right royally to his 
home and listen with kindliest interest to his 
erudite comments on Biblical or Talmudic pas- 
sages or new solutions of old difficulties; and 
after entertaining him with unstinted gen- 
erosity, would dismiss him laden with blessings 
in substantial form. 

It was not because Reb Shemayah was 
wealthy that he was able to do all these things, 
by merely sparing a little from his abundance. 
On the contrary, he gave thus liberally as a 
matter of principle, of religious duty, and his 
charitable gifts often involved great sacrifices 
[53] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

on his part. During the greater part of his 
life he Hved in rather straitened circumstances, 
and rigid economy was necessarily the strict 
rule of his household. His entire fortune had 
gone to the purchase of his Bauerngut ; and 
as he was neither a trained agriculturist nor 
a keen business man, his finances might have 
fallen into great disorder but for the iron rule 
he had set up for himself, and from which he 
never deviated, never to contract debts which he 
could not see his way clear to pay. In addition 
to his ordinary difficulties he met with several 
misfortunes, which would have sufficed to break 
down the courage of an ordinary man; but his 
sublime faith enabled him to bear all these trials 
cheerfully and resignedly, and, like Rabbi Na- 
hum of old, he would repeat whenever any trib- 
ulation came upon him: "This also is for 
good." 

A striking illustration of this trait was given 
after he had been for quite some years actively 
engaged in his chosen vocation, had found his 
chosen life-partner, and had already a family of 
several daughters. In the middle of a bitter 
winter night a fire suddenly broke out in Reb 
Shemayah's dwelling; and, quickly assuming di- 
mensions which rendered it impossible to check 
it, the family were driven forth half-clad into the 

[54] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



icy night. The house was burned to the ground 
and hardly anything of its contents was saved, 
but the barn had escaped, and there Reb Shema- 
yah and his nearly frozen wife and family found 
refuge. There, too, his wife, Perla by name, 
who had for some time been expecting the ad- 
vent of a little stranger, gave birth to a beautiful 
black-eyed boy, the first male child. It was a 
heartrending conjuncture. His home a mass of 
smoking ruins in the intense cold of a Bavarian 
mountain winter, nothing saved but a few quilts 
and articles of clothing, his family huddled to- 
gether for refuge in a barn, through the chinks 
of whose wooden walls the chill blasts blew 
keenly; and most heartrending of all — to see 
his dear wife forced to undergo, under such 
circumstances, the pains and dangers of child- 
birth. It was a situation which would have 
broken the courage or destroyed the faith of 
another man. But Reb Shemayah lifted his 
eyes to heaven, and in all sincerity and truth 
uttered the words: " I thank Thee, O Master of 
the universe, for Thou art good. With one 
hand Thou smitest, but with the other Thou 
healest. Thou hast destroyed my habitation, 
but Thou hast also fulfilled the prayer of my 
heart and given me a son." And, indeed, the 
terror and the suffering were soon over. Kind 

[55] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

Jewish neighbors hastened to open their homes 
to the afflicted family. Neither mother nor 
child was any the worse for the harsh exposure, 
and the black-eyed boy became subsequently 
the Uncle Koppel, whose hospitality I enjoyed. 
If anything in the whole incident distressed 
Reb Shemayah keenly, it was the necessity of 
accepting, if even temporarily, the assistance of 
others. Himself ever ready to assist the needy, 
he entertained an intense aversion to receiving 
himself such assistance. 

Though Reb Shemayah was, as we have seen, 
an ethically noble and exalted character, he was 
by no means gloomy or austere. On the contra- 
ry, he was natural and unaffected in his ways, 
accessible to every one, dearly fond of a joke, 
and a capital story-teller. Despite his readiness 
to accept as true tales of distress, he was, never- 
theless, an excellent psychologist, and had no 
difficulty in thoroughly reading the characters 
and motives of those with whom he was thrown 
into contact. This ability once enabled him to 
baffle an attempt which was made to victimize 
and blackmail him, and to turn it into a humor- 
ous triumph for him. 

Nordheim, as regards the majority of its 
inhabitants, was an intensely Catholic village. 
The feasts and fasts of the church were cele- 
[56] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



brated there with great pomp and unction, and 
the numerous rehgious processions were par- 
ticularly solemn and, according to rural stand- 
ards, magnificent. In these the Jewish inhab- 
itants, of course, took no part, and, indeed, 
usually remained secluded in their houses dur- 
ing their continuance. For this there were 
several reasons. The Jews being, from the 
Catholic standpoint, heretics and unbelievers, 
were eo ipso excluded from participation in 
these Christian solemnities ; and their presence 
in the streets on such occasions was apt, even 
in these more tolerant times, to rouse the slum- 
bering embers of religious animosity and big- 
otry. Besides, the Jews themselves, warm 
adherents of their own monotheistic creed, 
would rather have suffered martyrdom than to 
have participated in practices which they looked 
upon as closely akin to idolatrous. 

Shortly after Reb Shemayah had become a 
Nordheim peasant and citizen, the village priest 
who happened at the time to be presiding over 
the spiritual affairs of the community conceived 
what appeared to him a most brilliant idea, by 
means of which he believed he could press a 
substantial contribution out of the learned and 
pious new Jewish householder. A great holi- 
day of the church was approaching — the indul- 

[57] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

gent reader will kindly excuse the author for his 
ignorance of Catholic theology, which prevents 
him from specifically stating which one it was— 
of the celebration of which a particularly great 
and splendid procession was the leading feature. 
In this procession substantially all the Gentile 
villagers took part, and at its head a splendid 
effigy of the crucified one was borne. The office 
of carrying the image was performed by a citizen 
especially selected by the priest and burgomas- 
ter conjointly with the council; and to be 
chosen for this duty was deemed a high honor, 
and was eagerly coveted by the good Christian 
burghers of Nordheim. Our priest's idea was 
as follows: The honor of carrying the image 
should be bestowed, with flattering words and 
honeyed compliments, upon Reb Shemayah as 
a prominent and universally respected citizen of 
the village. Of course the cunning ecclesiastic 
did not seriously mean that Reb Shemayah 
should actually perform the office, for it was 
entirely out of the question that any Jew, how- 
ever worthy, should actually take a leading part 
in the solemn ceremonies of the church; but 
our worthy theologian knew well that the aver- 
sion of the Jews to participating in such obser- 
vances was even greater than the disinclination 
of the Christians to permit them so to do, and 
[58] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



he had no fear that Reb Shemayah would, un- 
der any circumstances, consent. What he 
imagined would happen was that Reb She- 
mayah, on being informed of his selection for 
the honorable task of image-bearer, would de- 
cline the honor on the ground that his religion 
did not permit him to participate in such func- 
tions ; and when he would be further informed 
that it was not possible for a citizen to refuse an 
honor to which he had been duly appointed by 
the constituted authorities, would beg and im- 
plore to be let off, and would finally offer a good 
round sum to be released. This sum, after va- 
rious difficulties and objections, would be gra- 
ciously accepted as a mark of special favor, and 
thus the little comedy would find a pleasant and 
profitable end. Filled with this splendid idea 
for "spoiling the Egyptians" this time in the 
form of a Hebrew, the priest hastened to the 
burgomaster and confided his plan to him. 
That worthy, also, not at all averse to having a 
little innocent sport and gaining some filthy 
lucre from the unbelieving Jew, at once gave 
the plan his most hearty approval, and it was 
resolved to put it forthwith into execution. 
Accordingly Reb Shemayah was astounded that 
evening, when sitting in his room resting after 
the labors of the day, to hear first a resounding 
[59] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

knock with the old-fashioned knocker on his 
front door and afterward from the Hps of his 
Perla, who had gone to answer the summons, 
and who returned with an expression of amaze- 
ment not unmingled with anxiety upon her 
face, the words, " The priest and the burgomas- 
ter are here and desire to see you." 

Reb Shemayah at once felt that this visit be- 
tokened something unusual. He had often met 
and conversed with the priest and the burgomas- 
ter, singly and together ; the one and the other 
had also been casually within his four walls, but 
neither had ever visited him formally, and this 
special visit by the two leading men of the vil- 
lage together he knew must have some particu- 
lar and unusual reason. He at once determined 
to reflect ripely on whatever proposition they 
should make him, and to act upon it in accord- 
ance with his best judgment and wisdom. He 
rose and received them with great politeness; 
and after they had seated themselves, in accord- 
ance with his request, he inquired to what he 
owed the distinguished honor of their visit. 
The priest, in view of the deference due to his 
holy calling, acted as spokesman and explained 
the mission which had brought them thither. 

"We have come, dear Reb Shemayah," he 
said, " as a deputation from the church and secu- 

[60] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



lar community of Nordheim, to show you how 
free from prejudice or bigotry our village is, and 
in particular how greatly we love and honor you. 
You know, of course, that it is a fixed rule with 
us never to confer any of the honors connected 
with the rites and ceremonies of our holy church 
upon any one but a true believer, in full com- 
munion with and good standing in the church ; 
but so greatly do we love and esteem you that 
we have resolved for your sake to depart from 
this time-honored and otherwise invariable rule, 
and to honor you as greatly as we would the 
best of our true Christian burghers. We have 
therefore come as a delegation to inform you 
that you have been selected for the high and 
solemn office of bearing the Holy Image at the 

great procession of mas next, and at the 

same time to congratulate you upon this rare 
honor, which has never yet been attained by 
any Jew." Reb Shemayah listened to this 
smooth speech with external calmness, but with 
the most violent internal agitation. The priest 
had understood well his true feelings. His very 
blood ran cold at the thought of the proffered 
honor ij). What! he, the scion of a long line 
of martyrs who had died at the stake rather 
than prove recreant to the command thundered 
forth amid Sinai's flames, "Thou shalt not 

[6i] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

make unto thyself any graven image, or any like- 
ness of anything which is in the heaven above, 
or in the earth beneath, or in the waters beneath 
the earth; thou shalt not bow down to them 
nor worship them " ; from whose dying lips had 
issued the cry, " Hear, O Israel, the Lord our 
God, the Lord is One " — — he should march in 
the procession of an alien cult and himself bear 
an image for the idolatrous adoration of the mul- 
titude! He felt his very soul sicken at the 
thought. But his keen mind and his shrewd, 
intuitive perception of the fitness of things 
helped him out of his difficulty. He missed the 
note of sincerity in the priest's smooth words ; 
he noticed that neither his demeanor nor that 
of his companion, the burgomaster, was exactly 
such as is characteristic of persons desiring to 
confer honor upon another; besides, he knew 
full well how utterly contrary to all Catholic 
rule and precedent it was to permit heretics to 
participate in church ceremonials, and he could 
not conceive that an exception should be made 
for him, and in a flash the whole devious machi- 
nations were revealed to him, and he realized 
that it was only a cunningly thought-out plot to 
extort money from him as the price of exemp- 
tion. He resolved to baffle the ingenious 
scheme with equal ingenuity, and to give the 
[62] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



plotters no opportunity to narrate later on, with 
vociferous hilarity, how shrewdly they had vic- 
timized and blackmailed the Jew. His first step 
was to express his sense of unworthiness of the 
proffered honor. " I feel greatly honored, in- 
deed," he said, '' by this proof of the esteem in 
which my fellow-burghers hold me; but how 
can I accept such a distinction ? I am only a 
young citizen. There are others, older and bet- 
ter known than I ; besides I am not even of 
your faith. I am a Jew whom you deem an un- 
believer; and how, then, can I aspire to an 
honor which should be conferred only upon a 
true and undoubted co-religionist of your own 1 " 

" We have considered these things well, Reb 
Shemayah," said the priest ; " and you need not 
hesitate to accept the honor on account of them. 
If we esteem you so much that we are willing to 
overlook them, surely you need not be troubled 
on that score at all." 

" But surely you know," said Reb Shema- 
yah, " that my religion also forbids me to take 
part in such ceremonies. Judaism teaches me 
that the fundamental ideas which you sol- 
emnly proclaim by your processions and other 
such observances are not true ; and I may not 
lend my countenance to them by participating 
personally in services held in recognition and 

[63] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

affirmation of them. It is not lawful for me, 
as a Jew, to adore an image, or to assist in its 
adoration by others. I am sorry; but, while 
appreciating, indeed, the high honor you would 
bestow upon me, I feel that I must decline it 
as not suitable to one of my faith." 

" My dear Reb Shemayah," said the priest in a 
somewhat harsher manner, while the burgomas- 
ter sustained him with a threatening shake of 
the head, " I am sorry to hear you speak thus. 
Permit me to say that your words are displeas- 
ing, not to say offensive. To decline on such 
grounds the distinguished honor offered you is 
to scoff at our holy faith; is, indeed, to insult 
our entire Christian community here in Nord- 
heim. Furthermore, let me remind you that it 
is a matter of civic obligation, and that it is not 
feasible for a citizen to decline the honors or 
refuse the functions which the community may 
see fit to confer upon him. If such were per- 
mitted, our civic honors might go begging and 
all authority would fall into contempt. You 
have been selected, as an honored citizen, to 
take a leading part in a great public ceremony, 
and it is expected that as a loyal burgher you 
will overlook your religious scruples and per- 
form your public duty. Both as a Jew, who 
needs to live in peace with the inhabitants of 
[64] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



other faiths, and as a true citizen of this com- 
munity, we expect, nay we insist, that you will 
at once declare your willingness to perform the 
duty assigned to you by the constituted author- 
ities of the community." 

These words made a deep and evident im- 
pression upon Reb Shemayah. He was visi- 
bly agitated. The choice the priest had given 
him was a hard one. Either recreancy to his so 
ardently loved faith, or the disfavor of his fellow- 
townsmen, and perhaps punishment as a scoffer 
at the established religion, or a contumacious 
rejector of civic honors. 

The priest and burgomaster gazed at him 
with triumphant eyes, thinking in their hearts 
that now they had the Jew on his knees, and 
that presently he would be begging and plead- 
ing for mercy, and offering to do anything or 
give any amount if only they would release 
him from the dreaded and abhorred " honor." 
The priest was already considering the amount 
he should ask as the condition of release ; and 
the burgomaster, foreseeing that the unselfish ( ?) 
disciple of other-worldliness would want the 
lion's share, was resolving in his mind that he 
would insist on a fair and equitable division of 
the spoils, share and share alike. But Reb She- 
mayah had prepared a little surprise for them. 
5 [65] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

" Your reverence," he said when the priest had 
concluded his remarks, " I beg your pardon for 
my hasty words, uttered without a true compre- 
hension of the importance of the privilege be- 
stowed upon me. Your lucid explanation has 
fully convinced me that I was in the wrong. I 
see now that it is my duty as a good citizen to 
accept with gratitude any duty which the com- 
munity may assign to me, even if it does not 
agree with my religion. I accept, therefore, the 
honor you have conferred upon me, and I desire 
you to express my thanks to the worthy coun- 
cilmen for the high privilege which I have re- 
ceived at their hands." 

It was the turn now of the priest and the 
burgomaster to be agitated. They could hardly 
believe their ears. Reb Shemayah, the Jew, the 
heretic, to be the leading figure in the great 
mas procession ! The thought was horrify- 
ing. They realized that their brilliant plan 
had failed, that the Jew had triumphed, that 
they had gotten themselves into a pretty pickle 
out of which they would have vast trouble to 
extricate themselves; for, of course, Reb She- 
mayah had not been really invited by the 
councilmen, and the matter had never been 
even broached to them by the cunning schem- 
ers. They were beaten, disconcerted, crushed. 
[66] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



Worst of all, they had to dissemble, to pretend 
that they were delighted. 

" Do I understand you, then, Reb Shemayah," 
said the priest, suppressing by a great effort his 
discomfiture, and forcing his countenance to as- 
sume a pleased expression, " you are willing to 
accept the honor and will bear the image at the 
procession ? " " Yes, your reverence," answered 
Reb Shemayah. "Your eloquence has con- 
vinced me and induced me to do so." 

" Such being the case," answered the priest, 
" we may consider the matter settled and will 
now bid you good-by." The priest and burgo- 
master thereupon took their departure. When 
they were gone, the members of Reb Shema- 
yah 's household, who had heard with amaze- 
ment, not unmixed with horror, his declaration 
of willingness to bear the image, besieged him 
with questions as to how it was possible for him 
to think of such a thing. But Reb Shemayah 
only smiled and answered not a word. In the 
meanwhile the priest and the burgomaster had a 
heated and angry discussion. Each blamed the 
other for the extremely embarrassing position in 
which they were placed ; but the priest smarted 
most under the reproaches of his colleague in in- 
iquity, for the fact was indisputable that the plot 
had originated with him, and it was particularly 

[67] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

mortifying to him, as a man of presumably supe- 
rior wisdom, to have committed such an egre- 
gious blunder, and to be in danger of ignominious 
exposure. The upshot of their debate was that 
Reb Shemayah must be induced to change his 
mind and withdraw his acceptance of the impos- 
sible honor which they had tendered him, and 
that knowledge of their scheme, and the manner 
in which it had been frustrated, must be kept 
from the councilmen and the people in general. 
But who should undertake the difficult and 
unpleasant task of undeceiving Reb Shemayah, 
a task which, they clearly foresaw, would involve 
confession of their guilty purpose and practically 
throwing themselves on the mercy of the Jew, 
whom they had deliberately plotted to torture 
and plunder, and who had so cleverly turned the 
tables upon them? Each desired the other to 
undertake the disagreeable mission ; but finally 
the burgomaster yielded to the urgent pleadings 
of the humiliated cleric and consented to visit 
Reb Shemayah and endeavor to alter his unex- 
pected resolution. Accordingly at a very early 
hour the following morning — the burgomaster 
called intentionally so early in order to forestall 
any attempt of Reb Shemayah to disseminate 
the news of the distinction he had received — the 
burgomaster appeared again in Reb Shemayah 's 

[68] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



dwelling. Our friend was not in the least sur- 
prised to seethe burgomaster; in fact, he had 
expected that either he or the priest would ap- 
pear, but expressed, as in duty bound, great 
astonishment at his early visit. 

" To what do I owe the honor of this very 
early call, good friend burgomaster?" he said, 
with voice and countenance expressive of sur- 
prise. " Is there any other service, perhaps, 
which the community requires of me ? " 

" No, good friend Shemayah," said the burgo- 
master, with halting voice and embarrassed man- 
ner ; for, in good truth, he felt very cheap indeed. 
"In fact, I have come to tell you that his rever- 
ence, the priest, and I discussed the matter of 
your acting as image-bearer on our way back 
from your house last evening, and we came to 
the conclusion that we had not given enough 
consideration to your Jewish prejudices; and 
that we really ought not to insist on your per- 
forming an act which is against your conscience. 
I have, therefore, come to tell you that you are 
released from the function for which we had se- 
lected you, and that you need not act as image- 
bearer." 

" Aha," thought Reb Shemayah, " so this is 
the direction from which the wind blows! Well, 
you shall not get off so easy. You and your 

[69] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

reverend companion must first be taught a little 
lesson of consideration for the feelings of others, 
and be discouraged from similar financial ven- 
tures in the future." Then he spoke aloud and 
in a tone of the utmost courtesy and deference 
to the burgomaster. " I thank you, most worthy 
burgomaster, for the delicacy and consideration 
for my conscientious scruples which your words 
display, and which are no doubt felt also by his 
reverence, the priest. But I have also reflected 
well on the matter, and I shall ask no special 
privilege as a Jew. As his reverence so well ex- 
plained last night, it is a matter of civic obli- 
gation; and I do not wish, as a Jew, to shirk 
any civic duty, or to have it said that my co- 
religionists are unwilling to perform any task 
which the state imposes upon them. I do not 
ask, therefore, for any exemption, but shall 
cheerfully perform the task assigned me, and 
appreciate greatly the honor which I have re- 
ceived in being selected for such a function." 

The face of our worthy burgomaster was a 
sight to behold during the delivery of these 
words, and his feelings would beggar description. 
He was a picture of limp despair, of utter dis- 
may and dejection. He saw clearly that there 
was no other escape from the predicament than 
to make a clean breast of it, which he accordingly 
[70] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



resolved to do. It is unnecessary to enter here 
into all the details of conversation, to repeat the 
faltering words of the confused and embarrassed 
burgomaster, and the indignant outbursts of 
virtuous wrath on the part of Reb Shemayah. 
Suffice it to say, that the burgomaster made an 
abject confession of the whole despicable plot, 
and begged Reb Shemayah to have consid- 
eration with him and his companion in guilt and 
not bring disgrace on them both ; which Reb 
Shemayah, after his first outburst of wrath had 
subsided, consented to do, but only on condition 
that the priest, as the instigator of the plot, 
should visit him and personally ask his pardon. 
Both conspirators were glad enough to settle 
the affair in this way. The priest appeared 
before Reb Shemayah the following evening 
with an humble apology, which the latter ac- 
cepted, but not until he had read the abashed 
cleric a good lesson on the moral aspects of the 
priestly vocation, and on the duty of respecting 
the feelings and scruples of those who do not 
think as we do. Nothing ever became ofiicially 
known of the episode, but the facts leaked out 
somehow, as facts of this kind have a way of do- 
ing, and became the common talk of the village 
for a considerable time. The incident caused 
Reb Shemayah to be looked upon in a some- 
[71] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

what different light than hitherto. He had pre- 
viously enjoyed the reputation of rectitude and 
piety ; after this he acquired a name for shrewd- 
ness and wit, so that the phrases, " shrewd as 
Reb Shemayah," "sharp as Reb Shemayah" 
vied in popularity in Nordheimer speech with 
the other phrases, " good as Reb Shemayah " 
and " pious as Reb Shemayah." 

And thus this good and noble man lived his 
allotted tale of years in his rustic home, respect- 
ed and loved; yes, revered by all. As the 
French king said, '' L'Etat, c'est moil' so Reb 
Shemayah could have said had he been egotis- 
tical enough to have thought of such a thing, 
"TheNordheim Kehillah; lam it." He was 
the one dominant, overshadowing figure in the 
whole Nordheim community ; so that Nordheim 
became known as the place where Reb Shema- 
yah lived. And Nordheim people, when away 
from home and stating whence they came, would 
often hear in comment the words, "Oh, that is 
where Reb Shemayah lives." Some of the less 
appreciative members of the congregation re- 
sented slightly this preeminence, which was 
shared by no one except Reb Shemayah 's ex- 
cellent wife, Perla. Indeed, the story-teller of 
the congregation, who was also the communal 
wag and humorist, suggested that as Reb She- 
[72] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



may ah was equivalent to the whole Kehillah^ the 
text of the Yekum Purkan prayer, in which the 
blessings of heaven are implored on Sabbath 
mornings for the congregation, should be altered 
so as to restrict the benediction to Reb Shema- 
yah and his worthy spouse. He actually pro- 
posed a new wording with that purpose in view, 
which, as it is not devoid of a certain wit and 
may be interesting to those acquainted with the 
synagogue ritual, I shall not refrain from giving 
in this place. 

Yekum purkan min Shemaya 
Fiir die Perla und Reb Shemayah 
In Nordheini vor der Rhon, 
Ve-Nomar Omain. 

Translated, this composition, a mixtum com- 
positum of Chaldaic and Jewish-German, runs 
thus: 

My salvation arise from heaven, 
For Perla and Reb Shemayah, 
In Nordheim before the Rhon, 
And let us say, Amen. 

But these rebellious murmurings did not dim 
even in the slightest degree the brilliant radi- 
ance of Reb Shemayah 's reputation for learn- 
ing, piety, and benevolence. Ably seconded by 
his' beloved Perla, who was on her part also 
a model of olden Jewish wifely virtues, God- 
[73] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

fearing, modest, hard working, and tender- 
hearted, and who suffered from lack of recog- 
nition solely through being eclipsed by the 
incomparable and exceptional merit of her 
husband, he maintained an ideal home in which 
the traditional principles of patriarchal authority 
and filial devotion, of strictness tempered by 
gentleness and love, and of constant inculcation 
of lofty ethical precepts were undeviatingly 
maintained. And when this gentle and truly 
pious pair were laid away to rest — as they were 
within a few brief days of each other— in the lit- 
tle Eternal House in Willmars on the other side 
of the hill, tears flowed from the eyes of the 
many hundreds who had followed them to their 
last resting-place ; and all felt that the words of 
the rabbis in the Talmud were but too true: 
" When the truly righteous are departed from a 
place, gone is its glory, gone its radiance, gone 
its splendor." 

Yes, Reb Shemayah was the crowning glory 
of Nordheim's history, his life-time the golden 
age in the pages of its annals. And therefore 
we shall glance but briefly at some of the other 
whimsical or touching figures that lived and 
moved and had their being within its ancient 
walls. There was old Eliezer, who was always 
praying, because he thought it a sinful misuse 
[74] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



of human speech to apply it to any other use 
than to the worship of the Maker. He always 
restricted his v/orldly remarks to the briefest 
possible compass, and was never known to 
grow angry at any one except on one occa- 
sion. Then it was the writer's sainted mother, 
at the time a little girl of a lively and humorous 
disposition, who had the misfortune to arouse 
his ire, and even to receive a slap from his holy 
hand. That happened in this wise. Eliezer 
had no sons, but two daughters who bore the 
appellations respectively of Simchah and 
Glueck, the signification whereof in the English 
idiom is "joy" and "good fortune," These 
two daughters, contrary to the usual lot of the 
Jewish maidens of Nordheim, remained unmar- 
ried for a long time, so that at last they entered 
into that state most hateful even to-day in our 
age of " bachelor girls," but doubly hateful then, 
old maidenhood. Finally Simchah succeeded 
in becoming betrothed to a very worthy man. 
Eliezer was overjoyed; but Glueck, although 
outwardly joyous, was, naturally enough, more 
than a little jealous and displeased. At this 
juncture mother, peace to her soul, chanced to 
meet old Eliezer when returning from the syna- 
gogue, where the happy event had been an- 
nounced and the young couple duly blessed and, 
[75] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

yielding to a momentary mischievous impulse, 
accosted him thus: '' Mazzol tov, Eliezer! I 
suppose your Glueck must have a great Sim- 
chah that your Simchah has such a Glueck!' 
The joke was good ; but Eliezer did not appre- 
ciate humor, and a slap was the reward of this 
humorous effort. Eliezer not only spoke little 
at any time, but on Sabbath he eschewed the 
vulgar vernacular altogether and would only 
speak Hebrew, which language he alone con- 
sidered suitable, as the holy tongue for the holy 
day. But as he was anything but a Hebrew 
scholar, the results of his efforts at restoring 
to colloquial use the idiom of ancient Ca- 
naan I will leave to the imagination of the 
reader. 

Then there was Asher, the Chazan, who was 
not really the Chazan or official precentor of the 
synagogue, but a hard-working merchant in a 
small way, who supported himself and his family 
by untiring and unceasing labor and industry, 
but who was called Chazan because of his re- 
markable knowledge of the traditional melodies 
of the German-Jewish ritual. These melodies 
he could chant with much skill and a pleasant 
voice ; and his rendition of the services was so 
well liked by the members of the congregation 
that they did not hesitate to say that Asher 
[76] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



" was a better Chazan than the Chazan." Asher 
was a pleasant and friendly individual alto- 
gether ; but if one wished to gain his particular 
and undying gratitude, there was no better way 
of doing so than by communicating to him some 
new niggun or Hebrew melody. It was my 
good fortune to communicate to him some of 
the more modern synagogue chants which I had 
heard in America, and which he, in his isolated 
village life, had never had occasion to hear ; and 
I do not doubt but he remembers me gratefully 
to this day. Asher and his two brothers were 
Cohanim — that is to say, of Aaronitic or priestly 
descent. As such it was their prerogative, and 
that of their sons, to pronounce the threefold 
benediction over the congregation on holidays ; 
and it was touching, indeed, to listen to their 
solemn and melodious rendition of the ancient 
chant, and to notice the dignity and earnestness 
with which they prepared to perform their tra- 
ditional funtion. To gaze at them while chant- 
ing the benediction was not permitted. 

Then there was Isaac, the Schlemihl, a well- 
meaning, earnest struggler, but a perfect type 
of the Schlemihl or Jewish ne'er-do-well, upon 
whose undertakings no blessing ever seemed to 
descend. He worked harder, probably, than any 
three other members of the Kehillah ; but in his 
[77] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

hands the fairest projects seemed to receive a 
bHght, and the most promising business ven- 
tures turned to wormwood and ashes, to apples 
of Sodom and grapes of bitterness. But the 
Schlemihl, perfectly useless though he was to 
himself and his family, had one very evident 
purpose in the scheme of life, namely, to open 
the hearts of his brethren to impulses of kind- 
ness and benevolence. They certainly acted 
toward him in the most sympathetic and 
brotherly manner, and permitted neither him 
nor his family to suffer. At the time of my 
arrival in Nordheim, Isaac had just managed, 
through one of his usual transactions, to lose all 
he had, and to have his house, which he had 
received as part of the dowry of his wife, seized 
in satisfaction of his debts. But the Nordheim 
Kehillah, assisted by some benevolent friends 
from other places, paid off his debts, redeemed 
the house, and furnished him with a certain 
amount of capital with which to begin life anew. 
For safety's sake the Kehillah retained the title 
in the house; for, as Uncle Koppel said to me 
in confidence, "We might otherwise have to 
buy the house every year." 

A peculiarly interesting character was David 
the horse-dealer, a jovial, hale fellow, hand- 
some too, and tall and strong as a lion, a very 

[78] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



"mighty man in Israel." He was a stanch 
friend and reliable, and could be depended 
upon to go through thick and thin for one who 
had once gained his friendship. But David 
had one weakness, not unnatural, perhaps, in 
those of his vocation. He knew no scruples 
of conscience in regard to transactions in horse- 
flesh; and some of his achievements in that 
line had been, if report spoke truly, to say the 
least, extremely venturesome. Thus he was 
credited with having once sold a Prussian major 
who prided himself on his expert knowledge of 
the equine species, a horse with only three 
hoofs. The manner in which David was said 
to have done the trick was as follows : The deal 
took place in midwinter, when the ground was 
covered with snow to the depth of a foot or 
more. The horse was a fine animal, coal black 
and of handsome form, except that the left front 
hoof was lacking. David led the horse out of 
the stable; and as it stood in the deep snow 
before the Prussian major, who was critically 
examining it through his eyeglasses, the absence 
of the hoof was not noticeable. He then put it 
through its paces, cracking his whip furiously, 
so that the horse leaped and dashed in a most 
fiery manner, and the absence of the hoof was 
again not noticeable. The major was charmed 

[79] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

with the fire and grace of the animal, bought 
and paid for it at once, and ordered it to be sent 
to his quarters. It is said that the major was 
furious later, not so much on account of the 
money loss, but because he, the expert, had 
been so neatly duped, and because he had no 
legal remedy against David. Had David put a 
false hoof in place of the lacking member, he 
would have been liable to a heavy penalty for 
fraud ; but he had not done so, and had made 
no false representation. And therefore the 
major not only had no case against him, but 
could not even demand the cancellation of the 
sale. Thus the story for whose veracity I will 
not guarantee. But, however weak David's 
conscience may have been in matters of horse- 
trading, his conduct otherwise m'erited no re- 
proach and he was well liked. 

Many were the estimable and lovable charac- 
ters in Nordheim's Kehillah, and I cannot at- 
tempt to describe or even mention them all. 
Of Uncle Koppel and Aunt Caroline I have 
already spoken. Uncle Koppel was a typical 
Jewish Baal-Ha-Bayith, or householder, a 
business man of probity, whose word was as 
good as his bond, a faithful worshipper at the 
altar of Israel's God, and a worthy upholder, 
by character, if not by learning, of the repu- 

[80] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



tation of Reb Shemayah, his father. Aunt 
Caroline was a true mother in Israel, loyal, 
conscientious, and devout. Their able sons 
and charming dark-eyed daughters were im- 
bued with their spirit, and together they formed 
an ideal household. Nor must I forget Aunt 
Gella, the only other child of Reb Shema- 
yah who had remained in the native village, a 
woman of noble parts, who, had her lot been cast 
somewhere else in the great world, might have 
played an important part in history. Her noble 
brow, which emerged so modestly from the re- 
cesses of her Scheitel and her mild and clear 
blue eyes, showed her the possessor of a strong 
and well-developed intellect ; and her wise and 
well-considered conversation showed that the 
reality corresponded to the indications. Her 
heart was as warm and good and her spirit as 
firm and courageous as her mind was keen and 
clear; and she was, so to speak, the combined 
oracle and Lady Bountiful of the village. Was 
any female or, for that matter, any male villager 
in trouble, in want of counsel or help, she or he 
would direct her or his steps to the neat cottage 
in the Long Street where dwelt Aunt Gella, and 
there would find counsel or comfort, or what- 
ever help was required. A plague of dysentery 
came once upon the village, and then it was 
6 [8i] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

that Aunt Gella showed herself the veritable 
angel of help. While it continued she hardly 
ate or drank or slept or changed her clothes. 
She worked with tireless energy at her mission 
of mercy, going from house to house among the 
afflicted ones, bringing the right medicine to 
one, the right food to the other, and money to 
the third. Dear Aunt Gella: methinks I see 
her sweet, mild face now, and hear the words of 
blessing with which peasant and Jew mentioned 
her name. And besides those whom I have 
mentioned, there were dozens of householders 
in which piety, probity, and loving kindness 
were the constantly practised rule of life. 

Yes, Nordheim, I loved thee well, and I love 
thy memory. I loved thee for thy simplicity, 
for thy natural goodness, for the true and unpre- 
tentious way in which thou didst lay stress upon 
that which is pure and noble, and didst reject 
that which is base and vile in human life ; for 
the picture which thou didst show me of the 
beautifying and sanctifying effect of a simple, 
sincere, and honest Judaism, simply and sin- 
cerely lived. Thou wast one of the forces 
which did lead me to love and uphold the 
Torah, and to cleave to the faith which my and 
thy ancestors received at Sinai from Sinai's 
God. 

[82] 



THE VILLAGE KEHILLAH. 



Oh, that this tale of thee might work likewise 
upon the hearts of others like me, children of 
an unbelieving and irreverent age, and stir them 
to love for Israel's God and devotion to Israel's 
sacred heritage ! 



[83] 



THE LITTLE HORSERADISH 
WOMAN. 

How many of my readers know the little 
horseradish woman? Many, I have no doubt, 
are more or less acquainted with her ; and those 
who are not can make her acquaintance without 
any difficulty. Almost any afternoon and late 
into the evening, except on Sabbaths or Jewish 
•holidays, she may be found at her post in one of 
the blocks of upper Third Avenue, New York, 
standing behind her improvised little table, in- 
dustriously rubbing away at her acrid merchan- 
dise, with only occasional pauses to wipe away 
with the corner of her snow-white apron the tears 
which her lachrymose occupation forces from her 
eyes, or to give customers extraordinarily liberal 
portions of her finished product. The size of 
the portions she sells is quite astonishing to the 
customer; but the little horseradish woman is 
scrupulously honest in matters of weight and 
measure, of mine and thine, and would not 
think of giving less. 

Her tears, too, are quite remarkable. Indeed, 
I believe that horseradish tears have not been 
[84] 




THE LITTLE HORSERADISH WOMAN 



Page 84 



THE LITTLE HORSERADISH WOMAN. 

appreciated as they should be, for they are a 
species entirely sui generis, and not to be con- 
fused with any other tears that are shed on 
earth. Ordinary, every-day tears indicate sor- 
row and produce weakness ; crocodile tears indi- 
cate hypocrisy and produce disgust ; but horse- 
radish tears are born of industry, and their 
offspring are energy and good-humor. Such, 
at least, is the case with our little horseradish 
woman ; for, no sooner has she wiped away one 
of her periodical outbursts of tears, than she 
begins to rub away again with the utmost 
energy and the best humor in the world. My 
observation of the tears the horseradish woman 
sheds has made me their confirmed admirer. 
I have no liking for the lachrymose ebullitions 
of love-lorn maidens, of snivelling swains, or of 
wheezing or wheedling Pecksniffs. Give me 
horseradish tears; they are the honestest, 
cheerfullest — I had almost said — manliest tears 
in the world. 

Our horseradish woman is known by various 
names. Some call her " the old Rebecca " ; 
others, desiring to speak more formally or re- 
spectfully, refer to her as " old Mrs. Levy " ; 
but the appellation by which she is most widely 
and popularly known is das Meerrettich Weible 
— the little horseradish woman. It makes no 
[85] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

difference, however, by what designation she is 
known, she is popular under them all ; for the 
little horseradish woman is liked. Some like 
her for her courage in toiling so constantly and 
industriously, and supporting herself at her ad- 
vanced age; others like her because of her 
unfailing cheeriness and good-humor; others, 
again, because of her simple, trustful faith and 
earnest piety, for the Httle horseradish woman 
is more than usually religious, and is to be found 
in the synagogue, not only on Sabbaths and 
holidays, but also at the early morning and 
evening services on week-days, and is one of the 
most attentive listeners to the rabbi when he 
expounds the Sedrah on Sabbath mornings, or 
" learns Shiur " on Sabbath afternoons or week- 
day evenings. 

It is a truly pleasing picture which the little 
horseradish woman presents when she stands 
at her post ready for business. Her regular 
and refined features, of the familiar Jewish type, 
are, it is true, worn and wrinkled, and the hair 
which peeps out from under the cloth band and 
the old-fashioned bonnet which surmount her 
head is whitened by the seventy or more win- 
ters which have passed over her ; but the light 
of intelligence, of benevolence, and of pure and 
refined sentiments shines in her countenance 
[86] 



THE LITTLE HORSERADISH WOMAN. 

and makes it singularly attractive. Her cloth- 
ing is of the plainest. She wears a dress of 
some simple, dark material and over it a long, 
white apron; but no patch, tear, nor stain is 
visible anywhere, and we feel instinctively that 
we have before us a person who, though in hum- 
ble, even lowly circumstances, is naturally and 
intrinsically refined. 

But as yet we do not know the little horserad- 
ish woman. It is only upon entering into con- 
versation with her that we really find out what 
she is, and a great surprise awaits us then. For 
this poor, little, old woman who stands upon 
the street in all weather and seasons, and toils 
so hard to earn a few cents by the sale of her 
commodity, comes of excellent family, has had, 
for her time, an exceptionally good training, and 
is, in some respects, a remarkably well-educated 
woman. 

She was born as the daughter of a rabbi in a 
small provinjcial city of Germany, and her father, 
besides instilling into her soul the seeds of fer- 
vent Hebraic piety, saw to it that she received 
a thorough secular and religious training. As a 
consequence her manners are those of polite 
and well-bred circles, her German is pure and 
correct in grammar and pronunciation, and 
what is most surprising and pleasing to the Jew- 
[87] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ish scholar, she is acquainted with the entire 
Bible in the original Hebrew. The Book of 
Psalms she knows by heart and quotes with 
amazing fluency; and from her experience in 
her father's house she has derived a large num- 
ber of technical Talmudic phrases, which she" 
uses in her conversation with entire correctness 
of expression and application. 

And the most remarkable thing of all is the 
entire lack of self-consciousness on the part of 
the little horseradish woman. She is entirely 
unaware that there is anything out of the ordi- 
nary in her life, her characteristics, or her cir- 
cumstances. She never comments upon the 
different conditions that prevail to-day, never 
boasts nor condemns, is simple, natural, and 
unaffected; a typical, humble, pious Jewish 
woman. Oh, that you might come, you arti- 
ficial, affected daughters of an artificial, affected 
age, and learn simple refinement and natural 
dignity from this lowly sister of yours! The 
lesson is needed and would prove effective. 

Last Saturday night, after the " going out " of 
the Sabbath, my wife and I also determined to 
go out for a stroll on Third Avenue. We often 
take these strolls, and enjoy them. My wife 
loves the excitement of the lights and the 
crowds, which make it doubly pleasant to meet 

[88] 



THE LITTLE HORSERADISH WOMAN. 

an acquaintance or make an occasional pur- 
chase ; and I am equally fond of studying hu- 
man nature where it makes its most character- 
istic appearance, in the busy throngs of men. 
We had not seen the little horseradish woman 
for some time, for she had given up of late her 
habit of coming to our house with her wares, 
and her stand was not on any of the blocks we 
usually traversed. 

That evening we extended our walk a little 
further than usual. As we neared — th Street, 

suddenly Mrs. exclaimed : " Look, there is 

the little horseradish woman!" Sure enough 
it was she, and we immediately went up to 
her. 

While she was returning our greeting with 
great cordiality and friendliness, I noticed that 
she did not appear to be as well as usual. Her 
movements were lacking in their customary 
vivacity, and her face seemed thinner and paler 
than its wont. 

"How are you getting on, Mrs. Levy?" I 
said, while she was filling a bag with our ordered 
portion of horseradish. 

" Boruch Hashem, quite well," she responded 
with a smile. " My friends are good and patron- 
ize me steadily, but I feel that I am growing 
older. I was quite ill the other day. I nearly 

[89] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

fainted here on the street ; but the people in the 
deHcatessen store were very kind. They took 
me in and gave me cold water, and kept me 
there until I recovered ; and I am feeling quite 
well now." 

While listening to her words, I thought to 
myself how hard her lot was ; and I asked my- 
self whether it really was necessary for her to 
stand on the street and earn her living in such 
a trying manner. 

"My good Mrs. Levy," I said, "don't you 
think your life is too hard for you ? Would you 
not rather go to some institution where you 
would be cared for? " 

" Oh, no, thank you," she responded. " I 
don't wish to go to a home. I have a husband, 
although he is old and feeble, and good children 
who do what they can for me ; and I am glad 
that I still can earn something myself. You 
know what King David says in the Psalms," 
and she quoted glibly, " Yegia keppecho ki sochel^ 
ashrecho ve-tov-loch " ("If thou eatest what thy 
hands earn, thou art happy, and it is well with 
thee"). "I eat what my hands earn, so I am 
happy." 

"Why don't you come to our house any 
more ? " broke in my wife. 

" Oh," answered the little horseradish woman, 
[90] 



THE LITTLE HORSERADISH WOMAN. 

" I heard that another woman brings you your 
horseradish, and I did not wish to be masstg 
gevooiy 

Our package was now ready and we departed. 
But my thoughts gave me no rest. I was think- 
ing continually of the little horseradish woman, 
and whether it was not possible to devise some 
means of improving her lot. 

A few blocks down the avenue we met Mr. 
and Mrs. Bergheim. They are friends and 
neighbors of ours, and our greetings were cor- 
dial. I soon turned the conversation to that 
which was uppermost in my thoughts. 

" You know the little horseradish woman, do 
you not?" I asked. 

The Bergheims nodded assent. 

" Don't you think something could be done 
for her?" I continued. ''It does seem wrong 
that such a worthy old person should be forced 
to stand on the street and toil so hard for a live- 
lihood." 

The Bergheims smiled at each other pecu- 
liarly. 

''What would you do for her?" asked Mr. 
Bergheim. " She is much too proud to accept 
charity; besides, she really does not need to 
work, as her children supply her with all she 
requires for herself and husband. Her horse- 

[91] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

radish receipts are so much extra income that 
she earns." 

I must confess that this reply rather staggered 
me. There appeared to be a mystery about the 
horseradish woman which was puzzHng, to say 
the least. 

" But why, in the name of common sense," 
I demanded, " does such an old and not over- 
strong woman toil on the streets, in rain and 
shine, by day and by night, if she has all she 
requires and does not need to work? It doesn't 
seem reasonable. She isn't touched in her 
upper story, I hope ? " 

"Oh, no, not at all," said Bergheim; "but 
you see, she has rather unusual and exalted 
notions about duty. Since the requirements of 
herself and husband are satisfied and she has 
some strength, she thinks it her duty to labor 
for the poor. Every cent she earns by selling 
horseradish she gives to the poor. It is quite an 
amount, for she has many customers ; and quite 
a long list of widows and orphans and feeble old 
men who are regular pensioners on her charity. 

" Every Rosk Chodesh there is quite a gather- 
ing in her humble flat. All sorts of needy and 
afflicted persons, men, women, and children, 
crowd her rooms, and she divides among them, 
with the most kindly sympathy but with excel- 

[92] 



THE LITTLE HORSERADISH WOMAN. 

lent judgment, all the money she has earned 
during the month. The blessings she gets are 
innumerable, and she considers herself well re- 
warded thereby for all her trouble. 

" I found this out by accident, as she never 
says a word about it to any one. When I asked 
her why she went to all this trouble, she quoted 
a passage from the Pentateuch: 'Verily, thou 
shalt not harden thy heart nor close thy hand 
against thy poor brother ' ; and in another from 
the Ethics of the Fathers, ' The poor shall be 
the children of thy house," and said those were 
her reasons. 

" That, my dear , is why you cannot do 

anything for the little horseradish woman, 
except to be her customer and patronize her 
liberally. She wants no charity, and will take 
no gifts for * her poor,' whom she wishes to as- 
sist with her own earnings." 

So that was the explanation of the riddle. 
The little horseradish woman was emulating 
the work of the Master of the universe, was 
toiling early and late to feed His hungry ones, 
to dry the tears of His afflicted, to care for His 
poor. I was lost in admiration, both of the 
noble soul of this humble daughter of Israel 
and the sublime glory of Israel's law, which put 
such thoughts into her soul. 

[93] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

I have made up my mind that the next time 
I see the little horseradish woman I shall pro- 
nounce over her the benediction which the rab- 
bis ordain to be spoken at the sight of kings 
and queens, for she is a real queen, an un- 
crowned queen of mercy and love. " Blessed 
art Thou, O Lord, who hast given of Thy glory 
to flesh and blood." 



[94] 



THE GENERAL. 

I have distinguished company in my study 
this morning. No less a personage than Gen. 
Sergei Pavlowitz, late commander of the — th 
division of the regular Russian army, has paid 
your humble servant the honor of a visit, and 
is now seated in the rocking-chair opposite my 
desk. I must, however, ask my readers not to 
strain their imaginations unduly in summoning 
up before their mental vision a suitable picture 
of military pomp and splendor. The general is 
not in full uniform heavily braided and trimmed 
with gold lace, nor radiant with glittering epau- 
lets and buttons. No plumed helmet surmounts 
his head ; no clanking sabre swings at his side ; 
he is neither gloved, booted, nor spurred. His 
appearance would not dazzle the onlooker, nor 
overawe the most timid ; in fact, no one would, 
at first sight, think of connecting him in any 
way with marching hosts or warlike scenes. As 
he sits there in my rocking-chair, gazing at me 
with his mild blue eyes, upon his head a little 
black skull-cap, his long, snow-white beard flow- 

[95] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ing down upon the front of his shirt and his 
black broadcloth coat ; in his hand a stout cane 
to assist the steps which age has made some- 
what uncertain, while he descants upon a 
matter of purely synagogical interest, there is no 
suggestion about him of martial glory, no hint 
of the groan and agony and heroism of battle. 
He seems just a plain, every-day, elderly Rus- 
sian Jew, diffident and retiring in worldly affairs, 
but bright enough in matters of Jewish con- 
cern, of Hebrew learning, and religious prac- 
tice, such a man, in a word, as may be found 
in any of the orthodox synagogues throughout 
New York but particularly on the lower East 
Side, where the places of worship and solemn 
assembly of his brethren and countrymen 
most abound. 

But now my visitor has concluded the busi- 
ness which brought him hither and rises to 
depart. Immediately one can notice a vast 
change in the impression he makes. He does 
seem different now from the ordinary so-called 
Ghetto type he appeared identical with a mo- 
ment ago. There is something commanding, 
something indefinitely military and authoritative 
about him. Though feeble, he stands perfectly 
erect, and his figure and bearing are thoroughly 
military. Military, too, is the almost painful 

[96] 




•^ 




THERE IS SOMETHING COMMANDING, SOMETHING 
INDEFINITELY MILITARY AND AUTHORI- 
TATIVE ABOUT HIM 

Page g6 



THE GENERAL. 



neatness which characterizes his attire, from his 
well-brushed hat and coat down to his brightly 
polished shoes, a far-off reminder, as it were, of 
the days when a dull button or a frayed coat 
sleeve meant disgrace and the guard-house ; but 
most military of all is his right sleeve, for it 
hangs empty, with only a short stump filling the 
upper part near the shoulder, a mute reminder 
of bloody Sebastopol, where a British sabre cleft 
the arm to which it belonged in twain, and its 
owner hovered for many a day 'twixt life and 
death. 

This is the General. Perhaps, strictly speak- 
ing, he does not deserve the title, for he long 
since was stricken from the Russian army list, 
and might even meet with condign punishment 
were he to return to his native land ; but once 
he bore it with full right and authority, and 
no military shortcoming, no lack of loyalty or 
courage upon the battlefield was responsible for 
its forfeiture. It is, therefore, only natural that 
his friends and neighbors who know his history 
give him the title. So " the General " he is, and 
" the General " he will remain, until death calls 
him to his last long bivouac. What a tremen- 
dous change in state and fortune ! Once a dis- 
tinguished military commander, whose slightest 
behest thousands hastened to obey because of 
7 [97] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

his heroism; beloved by his countrymen and 
honored by his emperor ; the husband of a re- 
nowned general's daughter, and with every pros- 
pect promising rapid advancement and event- 
ually loftiest rank ; now the humble denizen of 
an obscure street in the Jewish quarter of New 
York, his life in nowise different from that of 
the other long-bearded habitues of the syna- 
gogue and the Beth Hammidrash. 

How came this Jew, son of a proscribed and 
pariah race, to attain to such distinguished rank 
in the service of the persecutors of his people ? 
How came he to lose it, and to sink back again 
into the lowliness from which he sprang? It is 
a strange tale, showing what sombre romances, 
what heartrending tragedies Jewish life is still 
capable of producing in the empire of the Czars. 
I shall tell it you. 

Some seventy years ago there lived in one of 
the western provinces of Russia a young couple. 
Israel Rabbinowitz was the husband's name, 
and Malka Feige that of the spouse. They 
were a pious and worthy pair. The husband 
was a respected merchant, whose scrupulous 
honesty and commercial rectitude were no 
less esteemed than his unswerving religious 
fidelity, and the accuracy and extent of the 
Hebrew scholarship which he displayed in the 

[98] 



THE GENERAL. 



Talmudic debates of the circle of " learners " in 
the Beth Hammidrash. Malka Feige was a 
worthy mate of such a husband. Kindhearted, 
unwearyingly industrious, and devout, she was 
a typical Jewish housewife. 

They had but one child, a blue-eyed, fair- 
haired boy of eight, whom they loved with the 
passionate devotion of which parental hearts are 
capable when they have but one object upon 
which to concentrate their affection. He was 
literally the apple of their eyes. His father 
cared for his intellectual welfare, and provided 
the best and most highy esteemed Melammedim 
to introduce him into the intricacies of the Jew- 
ish education of that time; and the lad, who 
had a bright and acute intellect, responded well 
to these efforts, and at eight was quite a little 
prodigy of Biblical and Talmudical learning. 
His mother, on the other hand, looked after his 
physical well-being, fed him on delicate food, 
clothed him in ?ijubitza of extra fine material, 
brushed and combed his little peotk until they 
shone, and set her pride upon making him finer 
and brighter in appearance than his comrades. 
Like Hannah of old, she had determined to 
dedicate her offspring to the Lord. Already in 
imagination she saw him seated upon the rabbi's 
seat, greeted by the plaudits of admiring thou- 

[99] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

sands ; and so strong was her faith in that future 
for her son that she rarely called him by his 
given name, which was Saul Isaac, but always 
referred to him as " my little rabbi." Thus the 
love, the hopes, the ambition of these parents 
were all wrapped up in this, their only son. 

Troublous times were just beginning then for 
the descendants of Jacob living on Muscovite 
soil. Nicholas the First sat on the throne of 
the Czars; and, like so many of the Russian 
potentates before and after him, could find no 
more pressing task to perform than to convert 
his Hebrew subjects to Christianity. He had 
no respect for the conscientious scruples which 
kept the Jews faithful to their ancestral religion ; 
he could not appreciate the heroism with which 
they endured every conceivable suffering and 
martyrdom rather than grow recreant to the 
allegiance plighted to their God. In his eyes 
they were only a mass of obdurate, stubborn, 
and pestiferous heretics, who refused to see the 
beauties and accept the salvation of Christianity. 
He thought and thought and cudgelled his 
brains to devise some scheme by which to over- 
come the endless resistance of Judaism to its 
own dissolution, and finally evolved a plan 
which for sheer deviltry and refinement of 
heartless brutality would have done credit to 
[ loo ] 



THE GENERAL. 



the blackest fiend in the legions of Satan ; and 
this, too, in the name of the religion which 
claims love and tenderness as its own special 
prerogative, and calmly assumes all the progress 
of humanity and civilization as its doing. 

His plan, in brief, was to separate the parents 
and the children. With the old Jews, he knew 
nothing could be done. They would go to the 
stake or the dungeon, and would not recant; 
but if, he reasoned, the young Jews could be 
removed from parental influence, could be 
caught, so to speak, before their characters were 
formed, and be placed in charge of priests or 
other Christian officials, they would be unable to 
resist, but would succumb to the powerful press- 
ure brought to bear upon them and would be- 
come genuine Christians. 

This fiendish plan he proceeded, with icy 
deliberation, to put into execution. What 
cared he for the cruelty or violent dissolution of 
natural relations, for the tears of terrified chil- 
dren, for the immeasurable woes and heart- 
breakings of bereaved parents. His tyrant's 
view of statecraft approved the plan and other 
considerations had no weight. Then were 
legions of brutal emissaries sent into the prov- 
inces reserved for the habitation of the chil- 
dren of Jacob. Their conduct resembled that 

[lOl] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

of brigands rather than of officers of the law. 
In numbers so great as to defy resistance, they 
would fall upon some unsuspecting Hebrew set- 
tlement, generally at dead of night ; would burst 
into the houses, and with utter disregard of all 
considerations of justice or frenzied appeals for 
mercy, would tear the weeping and terror- 
stricken children from the arms of their scream- 
ing and frantically resisting parents, would 
throw them into the ready standing wagons and 
would carry them off, never more to return. 

It would take the pen of a Dante and the 
brush of their own Verestchagin fitly to depict 
the awful scenes which occurred on the occa- 
sions of these visitations, the demoniacal bru- 
tality of the despot's henchmen, the helpless 
terror of the childish victims, and the unutter- 
able, paralyzed agony of the wretched fathers 
and mothers who saw their beloved ones 
dragged away to that which for them was worse 
than death, and could do nothing to save them 
from their fate. 

The same fate befell our Saul Isaac. It was 
a cold midwinter night. The Rabbinowitz 
family were sleeping peacefully, all unsuspect- 
ing of evil. Suddenly the sound of powerful 
blows upon the door caused them to awake in 
terror. Too well they knew what those sounds 
[ I02 ] 



THE GENERAL. 



meantj although there had been no report that 
the " chappersl' as they were called, were com- 
ing to their province. Hastily the agonized 
parents sought to find some place of conceal- 
ment for their son. A second later the door 
fell beneath the shower of blows rained upon 
it, and several ruffianly looking men, dressed in 
uniform, burst into the room. Without show- 
ing any warrant or offering a word of expla- 
nation, they seized the shrinking lad. Roughly 
they thrust aside Israel, who would have pro- 
tested, and flung off Malka Feige, who clung to 
them in a half-insane effort to rescue her boy. 
The lad himself they tossed into the wagon, 
into the midst of twenty or more other lads, 
who already cowered there, and drove off. 

Let us draw a veil over the unutterable sor- 
rows of that parent pair, thus foully deprived of 
the beloved of their souls. Heaven alone has 
power to right wrongs such as these, and to the 
mercy and justice of heaven we must commend 
them. 

Let us follow Saul Isaac on the course which 
he was obliged to pursue. His experience was 
not at first different from that of thousands of 
others. He was taken to the convent of St. 
Sophia in the neighborhood of Moscow. There 
a thorough Russian and Christian education was 
[103] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

given him, and every effort was made, by means 
of mingled kindness and severity, to induce him 
voluntarily to accept baptism, for even the per- 
verted and tyrannical minds of his captors per- 
ceived that a compulsory administration of the 
rite could have no binding obligation upon the 
conscience. To be sure, their notions of vol- 
untary action were rather remarkably casuisti- 
cal. Severe beatings, periodical starvation, and 
longer or shorter terms of imprisonment were 
all considered legitimate forms of missionary 
effort with which to persuade the cantonists, as 
the abducted Hebrew children were called, of 
the superiority of Christianity to Judaism, and 
to induce them voluntarily to accept it. 

It is a glorious tribute ta the power of Jewish 
teachings that most of these helpless victims, 
despite their tender years and pitiful condition, 
were by no means quick to yield to the mal- 
treatment or blandishments of their masters. 
Most of them resisted for years; some never 
yielded. 

Four years were required to bring our Saul 
Isaac into the frame of mind requisite for the 
acceptance of Christianity. At first he wept 
and wailed constantly and would touch no food 
except dry bread and water ; and, young as he 
was, he refused to listen to the instruction of 
[ 104 ] 



THE GENERAL. 



the Russian monks. But as the weeks rolled 
into months and the months into years, without 
seeing other than Gentile faces and without any 
word from his parents or any other Jews, grad- 
ually his recollections grew dimmer and his 
resolution weaker. Finally he no longer ob- 
jected to the Christian instructions, and in his 
twelfth year he was baptized with great pomp 
and parade in the chapel of the monastery, re- 
ceiving the name of Sergei Pavlowitz. From 
this time on his advancement was rapid. After 
three years of general education he decided to 
enter upon the military career, and in his fif- 
teenth year he entered the Imperial Cadet 
School at St. Petersburg. 

The memory of his parents had quite faded 
from his mind ; or if the thought of them ever 
came to him, they seemed like ghostly figures 
o£ an unreal world, entirely devoid of actuality 
or connection with his present existence. 

Sergei Pavlowitz was one of the most popular 
students at the Cadet School. His quick intel- 
lect, which had enabled him to comprehend the 
abstruse debates of the Talmud, stood him in 
good stead in mastering the details of military 
science, while his handsome figure in the neat 
Russian uniform and his polite and obliging 
ways were universally pleasing. In due course 
[105] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

of time he graduated as a lieutenant of artil- 
lery. 

His career in the army justified the expec- 
tations of his student years. He combined the 
two most requisite military qualities, high ca- 
pacity and rigid fidelity to duty. He became 
in rapid succession a captain and then a colonel 
of artillery. 

While holding the latter office he attracted 
the attention and then aroused the love of Olga, 
the beautiful daughter of General Wladimir de 
Mitkiewicz. Shortly afterward the General sent 
for him, and in due form and in the most flatter- 
ing terms offered to make him his son-in-law. 
Such a distinguished honor could not be re- 
fused. To be sure, a momentary pang went 
through the heart of the young colonel; and 
the shadowy faces of his father and mother 
seemed to rise from the gloomy recesses of the 
past and gaze at him reproachfully, but these 
sensations were too dim and faint to have any 
effect. He accepted the offer of the venerable 
General, which was, indeed, a most compliment- 
ary one, and because of which he became the 
object of many congratulations and no little 
envy. 

In the magnificent cathedral of Kurski- Kazan 
the nuptials of the dashing Colonel Pavlowitz 
[io6] 



THE GENERAL. 



and the beautiful and accomplished Olga de 
Mitkiewicz were consummated with all the gor- 
geous ceremonial of the Greek Church, and 
amidst an unprecedented display of wealth and 
luxury. The vast edifice was crowded with 
representatives of the noblest and finest families 
of the province, while the streets surrounding 
the cathedral were thronged with a vast mul- 
titude of the baser sort ; and the personal inter- 
est and gratification which all displayed were 
quite extraordinary. 

It cannot be denied that the striking atten- 
tions and adulations of which Colonel Pavlo- 
witz became the recipient did almost turn his 
head. In no other country are honors so much 
appreciated as in Russia ; and those he had re- 
ceived were quite exceptional, both in extent 
and in cordiality. 

He was happy, very happy; happy in the 
possession of the radiant, beauteous creature he 
could now call his own, and from whose spark- 
ling eyes love and devotion, ardent and sincere, 
shone forth ; he was happy in the evident sym- 
pathy and admiration of all his associates, and 
he was happy in the consciousness that his 
future was secure and that he was destined to a 
brilliant and distinguished career. Very faint 
and dim, indeed, were now the images of the 
[107] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ghostly past, and they did not affect his actions 
in the slightest; but somehow or other they 
would not forsake him, and he often found him- 
self wondering with a peevish sort of dissatisfac- 
tion and impatience, why they did not leave him 
to enjoy undisturbed the pleasures and honors 
of his present station. 

Shortly after his marriage the Crimean war 
broke out. Russia was engaged in a titanic 
struggle with the Western Powers, and Colonel 
Pavlowitz was among those summoned to 
defend the fatherland. The parting from his 
young wife was marked by tears and sobs ; but 
still he heard the summons to war with stern 
joy, for, like a true soldier, he longed to display 
in actual combat the qualities he had gained 
in theoretic instruction ; and then he longed for 
action — intense, stirring action — to drive away 
the shadowy, reproachful faces which tortured 
him by their constant recurrence. 

He was one of the commanders in charge of 
the defence of Sebastopol. He was personally 
engaged, and displayed the greatest gallantry in 
many of the desperate conflicts of that bloody 
campaign. At Balaklava he was in command 
of a part of the artillery, which received the 
world-renowned charge of the Light Brigade; 
and it was while fiercely beating off that attack 
[io8] 



THE GENERAL. 



that an unexpected blow of a British sabre took 
off his right arm near the shoulder. 

For three months our hero lay in the hospital, 
the object of universal sympathy and interest, 
for the good-will which had been previously 
entertained toward him had been greatly height- 
ened by the splendid bravery and skill he had 
displayed in the war and the cruel wound he 
had received. 

The Emperor himself had sent several times 
to inquire concerning his condition, and the 
visits and inquiries of lesser personages were 
innumerable. 

As soon as he was able to resume his active 
duties, the Emperor ordered a review of the 
entire army. It was a glittering spectacle, a sea 
of brilliant uniforms, shining bayonets, swords 
and cannons, interspersed with magnificent 
bands of music, an ocean of deeply interested 
onlookers. Our hero rode at the head of his 
regiment on a splendid black charger, his empty 
sleeve hanging useless at his right side. As he 
passed the grand stand where stood the Em- 
peror and his brilliant retinue of officers and 
aides. His Majesty ordered the parade to halt. 
Then in the presence of the army and the 
serried throngs of spectators, the Emperor 
addressed him as follows : 
[109] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

" Gen. Sergei Pavlowitz, my good and faithful 
servitor. I have noticed the courage and devo- 
tion with which you have served in my army. 
It is always my wish fitly to reward virtue and 
fidelity, and I therefore appoint you to the com- 
mand of the — th division of my regular army." 

Hardly had these words, which His Majesty 
pronounced in a loud and clear voice, been 
spoken, than the entire army, breaking for a 
moment through the restraints of discipline, and 
the vast throng of spectators, burst into .enthu- 
siastic hurrahs and cheered again and again the 
name of Sergei Pavlowitz. It was a glorious 
and inspiring moment. 

Our hero flushed with pride and gratification ; 
but, obedient to the rules of military etiquette, 
said no word, but merely saluted with profound 
reverence, and a second later the stern com- 
mand rang forth and the host marched on. 

Words cannot describe the exultation which 
now filled the soul of General Pavlowitz. He 
was fairly intoxicated with joy. Every ambition 
of his life seemed gratified, and with rapture he 
thought of the delight with which the news of 
his great advancement would fill the heart of his 
beloved Olga, who had visited him during his 
stay in the hospital, and had now returned to 
their home in Kursky Kazan, 
[no] 




AS THE CAVALCADE PASSED A CORNER THE GENERAL 
HEARD A CRY 

Page III 



THE GENERAL. 



Little did he reck that a tremendous change 
was impending, that an event was about to oc- 
cur which would recall with irresistible force the 
events of his early life and change the entire 
current of his military career. But so it was, 
and the climax of his military ambition was also 
destined to mark its sudden and complete end. 

The parade had been dismissed. The spec- 
tators had dispersed, and the various regiments 
were marching back to their several barracks. 

Accompanied only by his staff and a small 
escort of cavalry. General Pavlowitz was return- 
ing to his headquarters. Their road led through 
some of the old streets of the town. As the 
cavalcade passed a corner the General heard a 
cry. He alone of all the company noticed it, 
but there was something in it that thrilled and 
chilled him and filled his frame with violent 
agitation. It was a wailing, sobbing cry in a 
woman's voice, and its burden was made up of 
a few words, oft-repeated, in the Russo- Jewish 
dialect: "Oh, woe is me, my little rabbi, my 
Saul Isaac! oh, woe is me, my little rabbi, my 
little rabbi ! " General Pavlowitz heard the cry 
and understood the words. Though for more 
than twenty years he had heard and spoken 
only Russian, yet those words came to him as 
the far-off echoes of his own past, intelligible, 
[III] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

familiar, sweet, and unutterably sad. Like a 
flash there rolled away the many years of Rus- 
sian, Christian, and military training, and he 
saw himself again in the happy days of his 
childhood, a little innocent Jewish boy, proudly 
reciting his week's lesson before a circle of 
admiring neighbors, while father and mother 
beamed with satisfaction. Then, again, the 
memory of the awful night when he was 
snatched from them, and he quivered again with 
fresh horror and indignation. Turning his 
head as his horse trotted on, he saw, standing at 
the corner an elderly Jewish couple, gazing after 
him, with tears streaming from their eyes and 
an expression of intensest anguish upon their 
faces, the woman wailing and sobbing as in 
frenzy. He knew them at once. They were his 
father and mother. His resolution was instant- 
ly formed. His parents and he should meet. 
Hastily summoning a subaltern, who like him- 
self was a baptized Jew, he bade him leave the 
ranks unobserved, go back to the old couple 
and inform them that the General would see 
them that evening at a certain quiet hotel of the 
town. 

Faithfully the subaltern fulfilled his chief's 
commission, ignorant, of course, of the reasons 
thereof, but with his soul filled with an indefin- 

[112] 



THE GENERAL. 



able sympathy with its object, which instinc- 
tively he felt was noble. Quietly he dropped 
behind the troop, and in a few hastily spoken 
words communicated to the aged couple the 
wish of the General, whereupon he put spurs to 
his horse and speedily rejoined his companions, 
none of whom had observed his action. 

•That evening a young man in civilian attire 
inquired at the office of the Narodski Hotel 
whether a certain Jewish couple were not at the 
hotel, and was shown to the room where his 
parents (it was the General) were awaiting him. 
The meeting was pathetic, almost tragic, in the 
intensity of the emotions it aroused. The first 
sentiment was that of great, overwhelming joy. 
The reunited parents and child wept and smiled 
alternately, and embraced each other with a fer- 
vor only possible to those whose hunger for love 
had remained so long unsatisfied. Especially 
did Malka Feige clasp her long-lost son to her 
breast in a paroxysm of maternal affection, and 
very, very reluctantly did she release him from 
her embrace. But finally the first mighty ebul- 
litions of emotion had subsided somewhat and 
they began to discuss their eventful career and 
the difficulties of their present position. 

The parents' story was soon told. Their 
presence in Sebastopol was quite accidental, or 
8 [113] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

rather, as they devoutly beheved, providential. 
During all these years they had been unable to 
learn anything of the fate of their boy. They 
knew neither the place where he had been kept 
during the first few years after his abduction, 
nor anything of his subsequent experiences; 
and all of their efforts to obtain some infor- 
mation had remained entirely fruitless, so that 
finally they had despaired of learning anything 
of him any more. A few days previous to the 
memorable occasion of their reunion, Israel had 
received a favorable business proposition which 
required his presence at Sebastopol; and as 
Malka Feige did not care to remain at home in 
utter solitude, she had determined to accom- 
pany him. They had not gone to the review, 
for they had no heart for pageantry or splendor, 
and it was quite by chance that they happened 
to be standing at the corner of the street when 
the little company of cavalrymen with the gen- 
eral rode by. Gazing at the company in a 
casual and apathetic way, Malka Feige 's sharp 
eyes had at once noticed, despite the disparity 
of age and brilliant uniform, the resemblance in 
the features of the leader to those of her own 
Saul Isaac, and her mother's heart told her that 
this was her stolen boy. Then had she, in a 
sudden and irrepressible outburst of feeling, 
[114] 



THE GENERAL. 



uttered the cry which attracted the attention of 
the General and brought about the meeting. 

Saul Isaac then told his parents the story of 
his experience, which, as it is well known to my 
readers, need not be repeated. After he had 
concluded, the conversation turned upon their 
future relations, and they all recognized that it 
was a most difficult and dangerous one. 

"Ah, dear son," said Malka Feige, "what 
shall our future be? I cannot live without you, 
now that my eyes have seen you alive ; but how 
can we come together, since we are but a hum- 
ble Jewish couple and you a great general, and 
especially since you have become, alas for my 
sins ! a Christian ? It is indeed impossible for us 
to live together. The Czar would never allow it." 

" Yes," chimed in Israel, " and think what a 
disgrace it would be for us to have it known in 
the Kehillah that my son, the Illuy and Chart/, 
was a Mes hummed / I could never endure the 
shame of it. All your glory would be no com- 
pensation." 

It was indeed a knotty and thorny problem. 
But Saul Isaac had already reflected upon the 
matter in all its aspects, and with customary 
promptness of resolution had determined what 
he would do. 

" Dear parents," said he, " be at rest. Never 
[115] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

shall I forsake you more. Now that God, the 
God of my fathers, has brought us together thus 
wonderfully, we shall never be separated again. 
I shall stay with you and be a Jew, a sincere, 
loyal Jew. I know that I must renounce my 
high rank, to which the Emperor has just ap- 
pointed me, and all my hopes for the future, and 
leave this country ; for, as a Jew, not only would 
every avenue be closed to me, but as an apostate 
I would be sure of severe punishment, and, per- 
haps, even of death. But what care I for that ! 
I have never been sincerely a Christian. I only 
became such because my power of resistance 
wa« gone and there seemed no other prospect in 
life. But now that I see you again, my reso- 
lution is formed, and is unalterable. I love you ; 
I love my poor, persecuted people ; I love my 
God. I shall return to you and to Him with all 
my heart and soul." 

The parents shed tears of joy, not unmingled 
with grief and apprehension, at this heroic an- 
nouncement. 

" But how about your wife ? " asked Malka 
Feige. " You are married to one who is not of 
our religion, but who accepted you in good faith 
and intention. Lawfully you may not abide 
with her, but honor forbids you to leave her. 
What shall you do?" 

[ii6] 



THE GENERAL. 



"Of that, too, I have thought," answered 
Saul Isaac. " I love my Olga dearly, but my 
faith and my God are more precious to me than 
the love of woman. I shall go to Olga, tell her 
frankly of all the circumstances which surround 
me and ask her to accept our faith and become 
a Jewess. If she consents, we shall leave the 
country together and all will be well. If she 
refuses, I shall tell her that it were better that 
we parted, for true, God-pleasing marriage can- 
not exist between persons of different faiths. 
But, under all circumstances, I am determined 
henceforth to be a true Jew, to live and die as 
such." 

The parents declared themselves satisfied with 
this solution of the problem, and they separated 
with the understanding that Israel and Malka 
Feige were to go home and Saul Isaac was to 
keep them informed of all his movements. 

The first step of General Pavlowitz after the 
reunion with his parents was to seek leave of 
absence from the army to visit his wife in Kur- 
sky- Kazan. This was granted him without 
difficulty, in consideration of his meritorious 
services and his natural desire to share the joy 
of his advancement with his wife. With every 
external manifestation of joy, but with a heart 
filled with secret misgivings, he set out on his 
[117] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

journey. He feared much for the result upon 
his wife of the revelation that he had reverted to 
Judaism, and hardly dared to hope that she 
would look with favor upon his proposition that 
she should accept the faith of her husband. 

Knowing only too well the intense aversion 
with which his brethren were regarded by the 
Russians belonging to the official Greek Church, 
and having often had occasion to notice with 
what scorn and contempt the name " Zid " was 
uttered by the haughty representatives of Mus- 
covite self-conceit, he realized keenly that no 
greater shock could possibly be inflicted upon 
his Olga than the announcement that her hus- 
band was one of the despised and hated Jews. 
But it appeared to him that no other course was 
consistent with honor and rectitude, and he 
determined not to deviate from the straight path 
of duty. 

Often during the long and tedious journey, he 
tried to imagine the answer which Olga would 
give. Sometimes he thought of her as declaring 
that her husband's faith and people should be 
hers, and that with him she would go to the 
uttermost ends of the earth ; at other times he 
imagined her saying that the faith of her fathers 
stood higher to her than aught else, and that 
she would never forsake it. But in his wildest 
[ii8] 



THE GENERAL. 



imaginings he did not form any notion of what 
the actual reception of his words would be. 

He had determined to make his announce- 
ment immediately after his arrival at home; 
but when he saw the radiant face of his wife 
and felt her warm kiss upon his lips, his heart 
failed him. How could he speak words which 
might bring sorrow to such a beautiful and 
affectionate creature. He suffered himself to 
be carried to his splendid residence, and partook 
of the luxurious repast which Olga had prepared 
for him. He simulated gayety, and spoke with 
affected animation of the war and his part in it 
and his advancement and brilliant future pros- 
pects. He determined to make his announce- 
ment on the morrow. But on the morrow his 
courage had not returned, and he could not 
speak. He who had faced charging armies 
undaunted and looked death in the eye without 
flinching could not make a statement which 
might grieve the woman to whom he had given 
his name and who loved him so ardently. But 
on this day he was abstracted and dejected, and 
could not suppress the sighs which from time to 
time forced themselves from his breast. 

Olga could not help noticing his melancholy. 
That evening she determined to speak to him 
concerning its cause. 

[119] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

" Sergei, my love," said she, when the even- 
ing repast had been served and the servants had 
withdrawn, and they were nesthng side by side 
upon the luxurious divan, "Sergei, my love, 
something is troubling you. My woman's heart 
tells me that some secret grief is eating out your 
soul. Will you not tell your Olga what it is? 
Will you not let me share your grief? " 

"Olga, dearest," said Sergei, gazing at her 
with troubled eyes, while sudden pains shot 
through his heart, " Olga, dearest, how can I tell 
you what I know will grieve you and bring 
great sorrow upon her whom I love and cherish 
more than myself? " 

"Tell me," she pleaded; "am I not your 
wife? Did I not swear to be the partner of 
your joys and sorrows? Tell me your bur- 
den ; and no matter what it is, I shall help you 
bear it." 

" Well, then," answered he, " since you urge 
me, I shall tell you. Know, then, I am a Jew. 
Your husband, the great General Pavlowitz, is 
but one of that abhorred race, one of those 
wretched pariahs whom the Emperor and the 
people alike despise — a ' Zid.' Is it not suf- 
ficient cause for grief that the high-born Olga 
de Mitkiewicz should be tied to such a one, that 
he should be able to call her wife ? " 
[120] 



THE GENERAL. 



Olga looked at him with eyes in which a 
curious Kght shone. 

"What folly you speak, Sergei," she said. 
"How can you call yourself a Jew? To be 
sure, I know, and when I gave you my hand I 
knew, that Hebrew blood flows in your veins ; 
but it is now many years since you renounced 
the sinful heresy of Judaism and were baptized 
into our holy Greek Church in the chapel of the 
monastery of St. Sophia. How, then, can you 
call yourself a Jew, since the church and our gra- 
cious Emperor recognize you as as good a 
Christian as any of us ? Put away these foolish 
thoughts, dear Sergei, and let not the fact of 
your Hebrew descent trouble you in the least ; 
and be assured that it does not diminish my 
love for you in the slightest degree." 

Sergei gazed with tear-stained eyes for a mo- 
ment at his wife, and then spoke in a voice 
choking with emotion : 

" Dearest Olga, what you say is well put, but 
I cannot recognize it as correct. I was baptized 
against my will ; my consent was insincere and 
superficial. For a time I could disguise my 
real sentiments; to-day I can do so no more. 
I am a Jew, in faith as well as in blood. I 
have seen again my parents, and the sight of 
them has revived all my olden feelings, all the 

[121] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

childish love for my faith. No longer will I 
wear the mask, will I play the part of being 
Christian. I am determined to be a Jew. I 
intend to renounce all my offices and dignities 
and flee to a land where I may be at liberty to 
live according to the dictates of my conscience 
as such. My wife, too, should be a Jewess, 
should share my beliefs and hopes. Olga, can 
you go with me; can you accept our Jewish 
faith in one God and His holy law; can you 
resolve to share my lot in my unknown future 
home and be a true partner to me for life and 
for eternity? If you can, you will fill my heart 
with joy; but I do not urge you to make the 
sacrifice. If you choose to remain in your faith 
and your native land, you will be entitled to a 
legal divorce. I would leave you all my prop- 
erty and possessions and will never trouble 
you again. Speak, Olga, and tell me your de- 
cision .f^" 

When Sergei had concluded he gazed again 
into his wife's face, anxious to know by its ex- 
pression the manner in which she had received 
his words. What he saw surprised him. He 
had expected to see there the expression of 
anger or displeasure or, at best, surprise, uncer- 
tainty, and hesitation. 

Instead, he beheld the beautiful countenance 
[122] 



THE GENERAL. 



of Olga, all radiant with a strange and inex- 
plicable joy. She was smiling a smile of tri- 
umph, almost of exultation; but there was 
withal a solemnity in her eyes which showed 
that there was no levity in her joy, but that it 
was based upon some profoundly earnest sen- 
timent. While he was gazing at her, almost 
stupefied at her unexpected look, Olga began to 
speak. 

" Sergei," said she, " you have told me your 
secret. I shall tell you mine. You belong to a 
proscribed race; so do I, and am now really 
your sister in faith. You are a Hebrew. I 
descend from the Subotnikis, those sincere 
seekers after God whom the renowned Zacharia 
of Tambow converted to Judaism some centur- 
ies ago. As a student of Russian history, you 
know that the emperors persecuted the " Juda- 
izing heretics," as my people were called, with 
even greater cruelty and persistency than they 
did yours. Imprisonment, deprivation of civil 
rights, and banishment to remote sections of 
the empire, and even harsher punishments were 
inflicted upon them. 

" Under these circumstances thousands of our 

brethren fell away completely; others fled to 

foreign countries where they openly professed 

Judaism ; and others nominally adhered to the 

[123] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

Greek Church, but in their hearts secretly cher- 
ished their faith in the one God of Israel and 
endeavored to fulfil His holy law as far as in 
their ignorance and their difficult circumstances 
they could. 

" My family belonged to the last-mentioned 
class ; but through the high connections it has 
formed, it had grown quite lax and out of touch 
with the brethren. But we have, nevertheless, 
never forgotten our origin; and, though I 
feared to tell it to you, thinking you had become 
a thorough Christian and would not like to be 
reminded of your former state, your Hebrew 
descent was really one of the causes which 
gained for you my affections, for we Subotnikis 
honor and revere those native born in the 
household of Israel very much, and esteem a 
marriage alliance with them a high privilege. 

" Your announcement, therefore, of your in- 
tention to be a Jew, instead of displeasing me, 
has afforded me the keenest joy, a joy I never 
expected to feel. I shall accept your faith, dear 
Sergei, not merely because I desire to please 
you, as my husband, but because my heart al- 
ready inclines toward it with sincere devotion. 
I shall share your lot and your future, whatever 
they may bring of joy or sorrow. And like 
Ruth of old I shall say : " Thy people shall be 
[124] 



THE GENERAL. 



my people and thy God my God. Whither 
thou goest I shall go ; and where thou diest I 
shall die, and there shall I be buried." 

Words cannot describe the tremendous revul- 
sion of feeling which the words of Olga, so 
unexpected, produced in the breast of our hero, 
whom we shall henceforth call only by his 
Hebrew cognomen of Saul Isaac. He was 
transported from the depth of misery and ap- 
prehension to the seventh heaven of joy by this 
so pleasing solution of a difficulty which he had 
looked upon as almost insoluble. But Olga was 
also filled with joy, and the radiant gladness 
which shone from her beautiful eyes showed 
that she considered that hour, which meant for 
her the beginning of exile and, perhaps, of pov- 
erty, as the happiest of her life. 

The husband and wife, now joined by a new 
and profound sympathy, embraced each other 
with a fervor of love they had not known 
before, after which they sat down to write a 
letter to the parents of Saul Isaac. In this let- 
ter Saul Isaac gave expression to the happiness 
which filled his heart, and Olga wrote a few 
kindly lines, closing with the words, " Your 
loving daughter and faithful handmaid of Abra- 
ham." 

The happy couple now made quiet prepar- 
[125] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ations to leave the land. Gradually the gen- 
eral disposed of his property and turned it into 
cash. When this had been accomplished, after 
several months, the General and his wife left the 
town of their residence quite openly, under the 
plausible pretext of making a short foreign tour. 
Their first destination was a frontier town of 
Roumania, whither Israel and Malka Feige had 
preceded them. From this place Saul Isaac 
wrote to the Minister of War, resigning his 
commission in the Russian army and frankly 
stating his reasons for his action. Then they 
proceeded to Jerusalem, where the parents of 
Saul Isaac had resolved to pass their declining 
years in pious seclusion and the service of God. 
In the holy city Olga was formally received into 
the community of Israel, the name of Sarah 
being conferred upon her. 

Here they lived for twenty years. Six chil- 
dren were born unto them, all of whom received 
an excellent Hebrew and secular training, and 
were reared to industry, virtue, and the fear of 
God. After the death of the parents, which 
occurred in the twentieth year of their sojourn 
in the holy city, Saul Isaac and Sarah thought 
it desirable, in the interest of their children, to 
emigrate to America. Accordingly they settled 
in New York some years ago. Saul Isaac and 
[126] 



THE GENERAL. 



his wife selected for their residence a portion of 
the city mainly inhabited by Russian co-religion- 
ists, for in their midst they felt themselves most 
at home. 

Saul Isaac finds his chief pleasure in attend- 
ance at synagogue, and it is a question open to 
debate which affords him the most pleasure, the 
sermons of the Maggid or the gossip and anec- 
dotes in which the congregation indulges in the 
intervals of services. 

As for Sarah, she is so thoroughly Judaized, 
so punctual and exact in the fulfilment of her 
religious duties, so particular in maintaining the 
Kosher character of her household and such a 
fluent speaker of the Russo-Jewish jargon, that 
one would never suspect in her anything but a 
genuine Russian Jewess, native and to the man- 
ner born. Their children have grown up to be 
handsome and talented young men and women, 
good Jews and good Americans. 

Saul Isaac and Sarah are happy and con- 
tented. No tinge of regret for their former 
state ever enters their hearts. But often as 
they worship in the synagogue there comes 
spontaneously to their lips the words of Solo- 
mon : " Blessed be the Lord God, who hath 
given rest to His people Israel." 



[127] 



TOO LATE, BUT ON TIME. 

Moses Levinsky awoke with a start upon his 
humble couch in the Httle hall bedroom in the 
sixth story of the immense and crowded tene- 
ment-house in Eldridge Street, New York City, 
in which he dwelt. He very much feared that 
he had overslept himself and would be late at 
the early morning service of the Congregation 
Sons of Peace. The light which shown through 
the narrow window of his room was much 
brighter than the pale illumination which 
usually greeted his early waking eyes and 
seemed to show that the day was further 
advanced. A glance at the cheap silver watch 
which lay upon his trousers on the chair next to 
his bed showed him that his apprehensions were 
only too well founded. 

The Congregation Sons of Peace invariably 
began its devotions at 6 a.m. Moses Levinsky 
was in the habit of rising at half-past five ; his 
toilet and the walk to the little meeting-room 
in the next block required twenty-five minutes, 
and he was regularly in his place five minutes 
[128] 



TOO LATE, BUT ON TIME. 



before the voice of the Chazan or precentor, 
chanting in classic Hebrew, " Exalted be the 
living God and praised," betokened that the 
service of adoration and supplication, with 
which modern Israel supplies the place of the 
ancient sacrificial worship, had begun. But 
to-day the watch which usually indicated 
about a quarter past five when he first glanced 
at it in the early mornings, stood at half-past 
six. The congregation had already been en- 
gaged in prayer for a full half-hour, and he 
could hardly hope to be with them before the 
services, which usually lasted somewhat less 
than an hour, were concluded. Watches and 
clocks are obstinate creatures. They persist in 
their opinions, which can be plainly read in their 
faces. They care not at all how disagreeable or 
unpleasant their statements may be to those 
who consult them, and they can neither be rea- 
soned with nor stared out of countenance. And 
so Moses Levinsky's watch did not recede at all 
for all the hard stares which that rather con- 
fused individual directed at it; but, on the con- 
trary, advanced a minute or so, while he, who 
had now risen upon his side and rested upon his 
left arm, gazed at it with puzzled and rueful 
countenance. 
The truth was that Moses was in doubt as 
9 [ 129 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

to the right course to pursue. His watch told 
him that he might as well make an exception 
to-day from his regular practice and stay at 
home, for he could never hope to be on time 
at the services, or even present during any 
considerable portion of them. On the other 
hand, his conscience smote him greatly at hav- 
ing overslept himself; and thus incurred the 
danger of breaking his life rule, of always begin- 
ning the day in the house of God, and. in the 
words which the ship captain once addressed to 
the prophet Jonah when he had gone to sleep 
in the midst of all the turmoil of the storm, it 
called to him, "What aileth thee, O sleeper.? 
Arise, cry out unto thy God." After a minute's 
hesitation conscience won the battle over com- 
fort. Moses hastily sprang from his couch, 
made his simple toilet as speedily as possible, 
and in something less than twenty minutes was 
on his way to the little synagogue (" place of 
prayer" was the unassuming name which the 
worshippers themselves gave it) of the Congre- 
gation of the Sons of Peace. While he is on his 
way thither, we will take occasion to describe 
him to our readers; for many of them, no 
doubt, are at a loss to understand what kind of 
a person he is, and particularly fail to compre- 
hend why he should be so dreadfully put out 
. [130] 



TOO LATE, BUT ON TIME. 



at the mere possibility of being absent from 
prayers one morning, a thing which, I am sure, 
would never disturb the majority of my worthy 
readers in their mental tranquillity. 

Moses Levinsky was a very ordinary and in- 
significant individual, such as you might pass a 
thousand times in the street and never pay any 
attention to. He was nothing but a common- 
place, every-day peddler who wandered from 
morning to evening through the streets of the 
great metropolis, with a huge basket suspended in 
front of him, filled to overflowing with a miscel- 
laneous assortment of goods — suspenders, shoe 
laces, pins, needles, tape, handkerchiefs, stock- 
ings, and what not — and endeavored to induce his 
fellow-beings to purchase sufiicient of his store 
to provide him with a meagre livelihood. He 
had straight and regular features, of a rather 
handsome Semitic type, though worn and fur- 
rowed, not so much by years — he was only 
forty-three — as by care and anxiety; his hair 
and large irregular beard were black, heavily 
streaked with gray, and his clothes and close- 
fitting derby hat were decidedly shabby. All 
in all, he was not an imposing figure ; and when 
we add to the unimpressiveness of his exterior 
the fact that he had a nervous, deprecatory 
manner, and looked around him with timid, 
[131] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

apprehensive eyes, and also that he was a very 
indifferent master of the vernacular, which he 
spoke hesitatingly and with a pronounced Sla- 
vonic-Jewish accent, the reader will at once 
realize that he was of the type which low come- 
dians love to caricature and street urchins to 
mock at, if not to treat worse. 

But his external appearance was no indicator, 
except for those who are accustomed to read and 
understand such exteriors, of his internal.charac- 
teristics. Beneath the unprepossessing outward 
semblance there dwelt a keen intellect and a 
noble soul which might well deserve the admira- 
tion of the discerning. He had received a good 
education of its kind in his youth in his Russian 
home. He had been thoroughly trained in 
Hebrew, had read the entire Bible in the origi- 
nal, and was well acquainted with the Talmud 
and the modern Hebrew literature from which 
he had derived correct ideas of the world and 
the development of modern science. But he 
had not been able to utilize his training either 
in his native land or America. In Russia he 
had desired to become a rabbi, for which his 
learning and his sincere religious bent amply 
fitted him ; but all the positions he knew of were 
filled, and so after a few years' vain waiting he 
kissed his wife and his two little ones good-by 
[132] 



TOO LATE, BUT ON TIME. 



(he had married early while still a student at the 
Yeshibah) and set sail for America, where, he 
thought, congregations without number were 
ready to greet him as their spiritual chief. But 
a brief glance at the conditions surrounding the 
rabbinate among his immigrant brethren under 
the Western skies had cured him of his desire to 
make it his vocation. As he had neither capital 
nor sufficient secular training to enable him to 
become a merchant, or secure a remunerative 
commercial position, he had only the choice 
between two ways of gaining a livelihood. He 
could become a workman in a sweat-shop or a 
peddler. He chose the latter and, at the time 
this story begins, had pursued the occupation of 
itinerant merchant, an occupation in which 
there is little gain and less glory, for some ten 
years. During all these years he had permitted 
himself only one form of pleasure, attendance at 
the House of God. The theatre knew him not, 
the interior of saloons saw him only when on 
business bent ; but at the synagogue he was a 
regular attendant, never missing the early morn- 
ing services or the evening gatherings, in which 
the rabbi expounded the Talmud and its com- 
mentaries to a group of attentive " learners." 

Apart from his natural piety it had gradually 
become a matter of pride with him to be regular 
[ 133 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

and punctual in his attendance at the synagogue, 
and consequently he felt considerably mortified 
when on the morning of our tale he found that 
he must either be absent or late at service. On 
his way to the house of worship he tried to con- 
sole himself with the sneaking hope that per- 
haps his watch was fast and that the hour was 
not really as late as it indicated. But his hopes 
were doomed to disappointment. As he en- 
tered the little snyagogue the mourners were 
just repeating the last Kaddish, and most of the 
other worshippers were folding and putting 
away their Tallithoth and Tephillin, preparatory 
to leaving for the work of the day. 

Poor Moses ! A pang went through his heart at 
the thought that he, whose punctuality and zeal 
had become proverbial, should be so culpably 
remiss as to appear in Shool when services were 
practically over, and a keener pang yet pervaded 
him when he noticed the expression of wonder- 
ment with which his companions and fellow- 
members gazed at him. Nor did they confine 
themselves to looks of amazement; but, being 
finished with their devotions, they gave free 
expression to their astonishment in questions. 
" What's the matter, Levinsky ? " he was asked 
from all sides. " Aren't you well, or are you get- 
ting lazy, or are you turning link ? To all these 
[134] 



TOO LATE, BUT ON TIME. 



interrogations Moses returned no answer; in- 
deed, he felt morally too much crushed to defend 
or even to palliate his shortcoming. Gloomily he 
proceeded to put on his prayer-shawl and phylac- 
teries and with much less fervor than usual he 
recited the morning prayer. By the time he 
had concluded his devotions every one else had 
left except the Shammas, who, obliged by his 
office to remain, had waited impatiently to lock 
the synagogue, and who felt considerably ag- 
grieved at Moses for having caused him to lose 
so much of his valuable time, which might have 
been utilized for collecting a bill or arranging a 
Shidduch, Listlessly Moses left the room and 
directed his feet street- ward, but not too listless- 
ly to feel the withering glance of reproach which 
the Shammas shot after him as he departed. 

The street was thronged and bustling with 
the full tide of activity which had now begun, but 
Moses paid no attention to its appearance. He 
did not even notice the friendly greetings of 
several acquaintances whom he passed on his 
homeward way. His mind had only room just 
then for one thought, that of mortification at his 
inexplicable tardiness and the humiliation which 
that morning had brought him in the opinion of 
his fellow-congregants. He reached the huge 
tenement he called his home and began me- 
[135] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

chanically to climb the narrow and interminable 
staircases that led up to his room. The build- 
ing was comparatively quiet. Most of the male 
inmates and of the children of school age had 
already departed, the former to take up their 
daily tasks, the latter for the immense public 
school a few blocks away. No one met him on 
the stairs to draw his mind from its gloomy 
abstraction. But as he reached the fifth floor 
he perceived something which at once, arrested 
his attention and turned his thoughts to matters 
outside of himself. It was a strong and pun- 
gent smell, the smell of smoke. He stopped, 
all his senses at once keenly alert. Like all 
tenement-dwellers he realized well the meaning 
of smoke. It meant fire, and fire all too often 
meant death in those lofty and crowded edifices, 
from whose upper portions escape was always 
difficult and sometimes impossible. Even as he 
stood, the noise of uneasy motion in the apart- 
ments at the side of the hall where he was and a 
sudden clamor of voices within betokened that 
their occupants too had smelt the smoke and 
were seized with sudden dread. Doors were 
flung open ; the white, anxious faces of fright- 
ened women, followed by wondering little chil- 
dren, peered out. There was a rush of feet in 
the hall below and quavering voices screamed 
[136] 



TOO LATE, BUT ON TIME. 



" fire ! fire ! " By this time (a very brief interval 
only had passed) Moses Levinsky had located 
the direction whence the smoke proceeded. It 
came from the sixth story, and was already 
quite dense at the head of the stairs. As 
he gazed, Levinsky thought he could hear 
children's voices, faintly crying, as if half 
stifled. 

What should he do? For a moment he 
thought he would rush downstairs to the street 
and start the fire-alarm at the next corner. But 
he realized instantly that quicker action was 
necessary in this case, that human lives, chil- 
dren's lives probably, were in imminent danger, 
and that he must do something himself to 
rescue them, leaving to others the task of noti- 
fying the fire department. With a few swift 
bounds he was at the next landing, clearing 
three steps at every leap. The fire was evident- 
ly in the apartments on the left side of the hall, 
where lived the Shapiros with their three chil- 
dren, for dense smoke was pouring from their 
rear door and children's voices were heard from 
within, feebly wailing. The rooms on the other 
side of the hall, occupied by the Arnowitzs, a 
young married couple, were still and evidently 
empty. With one rush Levinsky was at the 
door through whose interstices the smoke pro- 
[137] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ceeded and endeavored to open it. It was 
closed and resisted his efforts. He kicked at it 
frantically. It did not yield. In the mean- 
while the smoke was pouring forth in denser 
clouds, paining his eyes and his lungs, and the 
children's voices were growing fainter and 
feebler. With mad frenzy Moses Levinsky 
threw his body against the door ; it shook and 
quivered but did not yield. Again he tried to 
kick it in, striking his right foot in his thin boot 
against the door with all his strength, and with 
utter disregard for the pain and possible injury 
to himself. In vain. The door was strong and 
firmly locked, while Levinsky was but an indif- 
ferent specimen of muscular development (his 
athletics had all been of the intellectual variety), 
and all his efforts to break it down were of 
no avail. Several precious minutes had now 
passed and Levinsky was almost in despair. 
He was hesitating what to do, and half inclined 
to rush downstairs in quest of additional help 
when his eyes, aimlessly wandering about the 
hall, chanced to light in the opposite corner, and 
lo and behold ! there stood an axe. It was the 
axe with which Shapiro was accustomed to 
chop wood in the yard. Usually he kept it in 
his rooms, but that morning had left it, by 
a providential chance, in the hall. Instantly 
[138] 



TOO LATE, BUT ON TIME. 



Moses Levinsky seized it. A few vigorous 
blows, launched with all his strength against the 
door, brought it down and he rushed into the 
smoke-filled room. In the corner he saw dimly 
three little figures. Two were clinging to each 
other and one was lying prostrate on the floor. 
They were Sarah and I key, the five-year and 
three-year-old daughter and son, and little Josey, 
the eighteen-months-old baby of the Shapiros. 
The older ones were still conscious, but wee 
little Josey had been overcome by the smoke 
and had fallen to the floor. In the middle of 
the room stood the large family bed, the bed- 
clothing fiercely burning and emitting dense 
volumes of black smoke. Levinsky 's first 
thought was of the children. Lifting up and 
holding the unconscious child with his right 
hand and taking a hand of each of the other 
children in his left, he rushed from the room. 
By this time the whole house and all the 
neighborhood had taken alarm. As he hastened 
down the stairs, in an effort to find a place 
where the unconscious child might have fresh 
air, there came rushing toward him a throng of 
neighbors ; among them several firemen, with a 
portable extinguisher, and a physician. Moses 
Levinsky 's task had been accomplished. The 
firemen proceeded to deal in systematic manner 
[139] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

with the fire, which had now grown large enough 
to threaten the whole house. The physician 
took charge of the unconscious infant and in a 
few minutes had brought him to. But who is 
this whose agonized screams are now heard, and 
who comes rushing through the dense crowd, 
frantically crying, " My children ! O my chil- 
dren!" It is the mother, Mrs. Shapiro, who 
had gone out to do her marketing, together 
with her neighbor, Mrs. Arnowitz, and, in the 
manner customary in that vicinity, had locked 
her children in the room until her return. 
When she saw that her children were alive and 
well, she kissed and hugged them frantically, 
and drew them to her breast as if she half 
doubted the evidence of her senses. Then she 
asked who was their brave rescuer; and when 
all pointed to Moses Levinsky, she fell on her 
knees before him and kissed his hands and 
called him a Malach of God, sent directly from 
heaven to rescue her dear ones. But Moses 
Levinsky did not grow at all conceited nor take 
the praise to himself. His face was lighted up 
with the gleam of intelligence, with the satisfac- 
tion of a problem solved. All he said was: 
" Now I see that God is good and His plans are 
wise. He made me late at Shool so that I 
should be on time to save these poor Ne/oskos. 
[ 140 ] 



TOO LATE, BUT ON TIME. 



I was too late for one Mitzvah, but just in time 
for another, and that is quite in accordance with 
the Halachah ; for does not the Talmud tell us, 
* He that has to perform one Mitzvah is exempt 
from another '? " 



E141] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUS- 
NESS. 

About fifty years ago a group of street-idlers 
and passers-by were standing at the corner of 
one of the narrow and old-fashioned streets near 
the old harbor of Marseilles, amusing them- 
selves at the plight of a short, dark-complex- 
ioned man who stood in their midst, and who 
was evidently a foreigner and a stranger in the 
town. It was a typical early summer day in one 
of the busiest spots of the metropolis of south- 
ern France. The sun shone with a brilliance 
and a radiance characteristic of the region and 
the season, and was just a little too warm for 
comfort ; and the streets were crowded with a 
motley throng partly composed of Frenchmen, 
among whom the natives of northern France 
and the proven9als or inhabitants of the south 
could be easily distinguished from each other 
by their diversity of type, and partly by repre- 
sentatives of various races and nationalities 
varying in shade from the olive-skinned Span- 
[ 142 ] 




A GROUP OF STREET-IDLERS WERE AMUSING THEMSELVES AT THE 
PLIGHT OF A SHORT, DARK-COMPLEXIONED MAN 

WHO STOOD IN THEIR MIDST Page I42 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

iards, Italians, and Greeks to the coffee-brown 
Arabs and Moors from northern Africa, with 
here and there among the throng a negro of 
ebony blackness. 

The great press upon the streets was due 
in part to the normal activity of the town ; but 
more to the fact that three of the great sailing 
vessels which, in those ante -steam-navigation 
days managed the freight and passenger traffic 
between the Levantine ports, had that morning 
discharged their human cargoes at three of the 
principal wharves in the neighborhood, and the 
stream of released passengers was flowing 
through the adjacent streets before becom- 
ing commingled with the general human flood 
of the city. There were many strange fig- 
ures among the new arrivals, but they all ap- 
peared fairly at home in their new surround- 
ings. Some may have been in Marseilles on 
previous occasions, and others were met by 
relatives or friends who guided them to their 
respective destinations. Thus all were cared for 
in the strange city except one, and he the woe- 
begone individual whom we have seen standing 
at the street corner amidst the knot of street 
gamins and loiterers. They had fine sport with 
him, commenting on his outlandish appearance, 
and asking him all sorts of facetious questions 
[143] 



[ FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

in the vulgar argot they spoke ; but ke under- 
stood nothing, and only looked helplessly from 
one unsympathetic face to the other, saying only 
occasionally in a dazed sort of way, to the one 
or the other, in what seemed to them an unin- 
telligible gibberish, the mystic words, " Yehudi 
Attah ? Yehudi Attah ? " Every such utterance 
would be greeted with a shout of laughter ; that 
is to say, by all except one. 

Benjamin Dalinsky, a Jewish peddler, whose 
cradle had stood on the banks of the Dnieper, 
but whom fate had carried to the land of the 
Gauls, and who found his subsistence as an 
itinerant merchant in the southern French me- 
tropolis, chanced to pass the spot where these 
scenes were being enacted, and paused a mo- 
ment to ascertain the cause of the excitement. 
The stranger noticed the newcomer, and ad- 
dressed to him the query he had so often fruit- 
lessly repeated: " Yehudi Attah? Yehudi At- 
tah?'' 

A thrill went through the whole body of Ben- 
jamin Dalinsky. He understood the mystic 
words. He heard in them an echo of the voices 
of his childhood, and of the spirit of his home, 
which he missed so sadly in this strange, un- 
Jewish France. He felt in them the yearning 
of a Jewish soul for the companionship of a 
[144] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

brother in faith, in sympathy, and in affection. 
His soul went out in sudden attraction to this 
dark-hued stranger, whom he had never seen 
before; and in the same ancient tongue, the 
Hebrew, in which the stranger had made his 
inquiry, he answered: "Am Yehudi bo immi 
achir 

Great, overwhelming joy lit up the dark face 
of the stranger. With mingled love and defer- 
ence he bowed low and kissed the hem of the 
coat of Dalinsky, who quickly drew him from 
the midst of the throng; and the wondering 
French idlers stepped aside as this strangely as- 
sorted pair, the fair-haired son of the North and 
the swarthy Oriental walked aw^ay together. 
Dalinsky's lodgings were but a short distance 
away — he had a room with a Jewish couple who 
eked out their scanty earnings with the small 
amount he paid them and thither he quickly led 
the stranger. After he had given the latter an 
opportunity to wash himself and eat something, 
which he did ravenously after he had satisfied 
himself of its ritual purity, for on the ship he 
had tasted hardly anything of the food of the 
Gentiles, he asked the stranger what had 
brought him to this unknown country, whose 
language and manners were alike unfamiliar to 
hi-m. In classic Hebrew, which he spoke with 
lo [ 145 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

perfect fluency and with great animation and 
vivacity, the stranger told the following tale : 

" I am a Jew; and it is the pride and glory of 
my life that I belong to the faith first proclaimed 
by Abraham, and whose sacred laws and ordi- 
nances I endeavor faithfully to fulfil ; but I am 
not native-born in the houshold of Israel. I am 
only an adopted child therein, although, I trust, 
my love for the people which is now mine is 
none the less warm and true on that account. 
By origin I am a Greek. I was born on the 
beautiful island of Corfu, the pearl of the archi- 
pelago, where grow the finest and choicest 
Ethrogim, most suitable of all species for the 
solemn ceremonies of the Feast of Tabernacles ; 
and the name upon which I was baptized was 
Dimitri Aristarchi. To-day I am known in 
Israel as Abraham Ger-Tsedek. The manner 
in which I came to seek entrance into the con- 
gregation of the Lord was most extraordinary ; 
and my statement may seem to you but little 
worthy of credence, but I solemnly assure you 
it is true. It happened in this wise. My fam- 
ily was an old and distinguished one in the 
island ; but my father, in consequence of ill suc- 
cess in various business ventures and a series of 
other misfortunes, lost all his wealth when I was 
a lad of about fifteen, and shortly afterward 
[146] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

died. My poor mother, overwhelmed by the 
double loss of her dearly beloved husband and 
all her earthly possessions, did not survive her 
life partner long, but within a few short weeks 
followed him into the grave. I was thus thrown 
entirely upon my own resources ; and as I was 
an only child, without either brother or sister, 
and had learnt no trade or profession, having 
been reared in the luxurious and careless fashion 
usual in my country in well-to-do families, my 
condition was indeed desperate. There was 
nothing left for me to do except to seek a po- 
sition as a domestic servant, in which no special 
skill is required and in which industry and good- 
will may supply the place of training. It was a 
most humiliating necessity, which drew many 
tears from my eyes. I, the pampered child of 
wealth, must seek my daily bread as a menial ! 
But there was no alternative ; and as the saying 
is, * Necessity can neither be praised nor 
blamed.' 

" It so happened that I found employment in 
the house of a Jewish physician, Moses Allatini 
by name. He was a man of considerable prom- 
inence, handsome and distinguished in appear- 
ance, extremely skilful in his profession, but 
learned as well in Hebraic lore. His wife, Es- 
peranza by name, was radiantly beautiful, 
[147] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

with the pensive, thoughtful beauty that marks 
so many of the daughters of Israel, and as 
kind-hearted and pious as she was beautiful. 
Their family consisted of seven children, all 
well-bred, polite, and lovable. At the time of 
my entrance into the household there was a 
baby, a sweet boy of two years, with curly black 
locks clustering around a face of alabaster 
whiteness, and eyes in whose liquid black depths 
an infinity of sentiment was revealed.- As I 
was not good for much else, Raphael, for so the 
youngest was called, was assigned to my care, at 
which I greatly rejoiced, for I had fallen in love 
with the sweet child when first these eyes lighted 
upon his angelic countenance. I devoted my- 
self to his care with the utmost zeal. I washed, 
bathed, and clothed him, took him out daily in 
the fresh air, gave him his meals, and tucked 
him in his little bed nightly when he closed his 
beautiful eyes in sleep. I learnt the little 
Hebrew prayers which Jewish children recite 
when they lie down to rest at night, or when 
they rise in the morning, and the benedictions 
which they pronounce on various occasions in 
order that I might dictate them to him, and that 
no one should come between me and my dearly 
beloved charge. Raphael reciprocated my at- 
tachment; no doubt because he perceived its 
[148] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

sincerity and we grew inseparable. As he grew 
older our love for each other did not diminish ; 
on the contrary, it increased and grew deeper 
and more intense. Next to his parents Raphael 
loved best his Dimitri ; and as for me, I had no 
one else in the wide world for whom I need 
care, and I concentrated upon him all the in- 
tensity of love of a naturally warm and affec- 
tionate heart. I continued to have the exclusive 
charge of Raphael, participated in all his sports 
and games, and accompanied him whenever he 
went out. Indeed, he always insisted that I 
must be his companion, and refused to go any- 
where unless I was with him. Our great love 
for each other became generally known and ex- 
cited great interest, especially among the He- 
brew inhabitants — the Greeks were not so well 
pleased— and the Allatini family were univers- 
ally congratulated upon the possession of such 
a faithful and devoted servitor. When Raphael 
was four years old his parents began to take him 
to the synagogue on holidays and Sabbaths of 
special importance; and as he insisted upon 
my accompanying him, a request which excited 
great amusement among the family and the 
others who learned of it, I was one of the party 
on these occasions. Thus was I first introduced 
to the ancient Hebrew worship as it is con- 
[149] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ducted in the Jewish House of God. I was 
deeply impressed by the melodious chanting of 
the Hazan, in which the congregation joined 
harmoniously from time to time, and I listened 
with great interest to the learned and pious dis- 
courses of the venerable rabbi. But there was 
no thought in my mind at this time of allying 
myself to Israel ; and as for the Allatinis and 
the other Hebrews, they never even dreamed of 
such a thing. 

" When Raphael had attained to the age of 
five, Dr. Allatini declared that it was now time 
to teach him the Hebrew language, and to be- 
gin to initiate him into the knowledge of the 
Bible and the rabbinical writings. But now a 
new and unexpected difficulty arose. Ra- 
phael insisted stoutly that I must take the 
lessons, too, and declared that he would learn 
nothing unless I was his fellow-scholar. This 
w^as a little too much for his good parents. 
They tried to make him comprehend that it was 
absurd to make a Gentile study the Hebrew 
language and religious literature; and to me, 
too, the thing appeared exceedingly dubious; 
but he would have nothing of their arguments 
and, with the unreasoning obstinacy of child- 
hood, insisted that I must participate in the 
instruction. 'Dimitri does everything with 
[150] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

me,' he said, 'and he must learn with me, too. 
If Dimitri will not learn, Raphael will not learn 
either.' There was no help for it. His youth- 
ful mind was fixed in the idea that I must be 
his companion in study as in all other things ; 
and his parents, seeing that it was impossible to 
change his view, yielded, half in amusement and 
half in vexation, to his wish. Thus I became a 
student of the Holy Law; and I bless God for 
the hour when He separated me from those that 
are in error and brought me near to Him, by 
enabling me to become acquainted with His 
Torah and to recognize the wisdom and holi- 
ness of His teachings. A teacher was engaged, 
the ablest Hebrew scholar of the town, and he 
began to instruct what he declared was the 
strangest pair of pupils he had ever had, the 
Greek Gentile youth of eighteen and the 
Hebrew lad of five. Both of us learned zeal- 
ously. 

" Now that I had begun I was eager to learn 
all that I could of Hebrew lore; and Raphael, 
pleased that his wish had been gratified, and 
possessing a bright and acute intellect, learned 
rapidly and well. We began with the Hebrew 
alphabet and the rudiments of the sacred 
tongue; but soon we had mastered these ele- 
mentary portions and took up the reading of 
[151] 



FROM THE HEART OF SIRAEL. 

the Scriptures, at first in the simple text and 
afterward with the commentaries of various 
learned rabbis. I cannot find words with which 
to describe the profound impression which this 
course of study made upon me. What had at 
first been a mere good-natured compliance with 
the whim of a child became afterward a most 
fascinating and absorbing pursuit, the most im- 
portant part of my intellectual and spiritual life. 
At first I was charmed with the Hebrew tongue 
as a vehicle of thought and expression, with its 
pronunciation, at once sonorous and melodious, 
with its symmetrical and harmonious gram- 
matical construction, with its brief and yet rich- 
ly expressive phrases and sentences; then the 
sublimity and grandeur of the Biblical teachings 
stirred and moved me. I wondered at the 
divine wisdom of the creation ; I admired the 
grand and heroic leaders, God-inspired prophets 
and teachers who spread the knowledge of the 
universal Master among men; I began to 
understand why Israel existed on earth; I fol- 
lowed with deepest interest the checkered his- 
tory of the chosen people; I triumphed with 
Solomon when the holy house was dedicated 
on Zion's height, and I wept and sorrowed with 
Jeremiah when it sank in ruin. The wisdom 
of the Torah impressed me deeply, its numerous 
[152] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

statutes and ordinances, all designed to bring 
about the one end, the happiness and well-being 
of mankind revealed clearly to my mind the 
ineffable goodness of the Author of all, and with 
David I exclaimed, *The law of the Lord is 
perfect restoring the soul.' In a word the spirit 
of the All-holy entered into me, and I under- 
stood, as I never understood before, and as 
millions do not understand to-day, that He 
desires the happiness of mankind ; and in order 
to promote that happiness and to diffuse uni- 
versal blessing. He hath chosen the Torah and 
Moses His servant and Israel His people. 

" Thus the years flowed away, bringing ever- 
increasing knowledge and happiness to us both, 
for Raphael and I were like two brothers united 
by love such as brothers seldom know. When 
we had finished the reading of the Bible, which 
took us about five years, we began to study the 
Mishnah. Here I found new subjects for ad- 
miration; the acuteness and profound scholar- 
ship of the Hakamim, their methodical order 
and system, and also their stern piety and un- 
yielding devotion to principle. In two years we 
had concluded the Mishnah and took up the 
intricate discussions of the Gemara, But now 
Raphael had entered upon his thirteenth year, 
at the conclusion of which, as you well know, 
[153] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

every Jewish boy becomes Bar-Mitzvah; that 
is to say, attains his religious majority, and is 
accounted fully responsible for all his acts in 
the sight of God and man. The Bar-Mitzvah 
day is considered everywhere in Israel a most 
auspicious and happy occasion. The youthful 
celebrant is treated with distinguished honor, is 
permitted to read the Sedrah and the Haftarah^ 
and even to deliver an address in the synagogue, 
and is made the recipient of rich gifts and 
marked attentions. As these ceremonies re- 
quire special study and preparation, it is nec- 
essary to train a youth some time in advance of 
the happy day. Such was the proceeding fol- 
lowed also in the case of Raphael. The teacher 
who had instructed us both suspended tem- 
porarily the regular course of instruction in 
which I had taken part, and concentrated his 
efforts upon teaching Raphael the proper 
method of chanting the portions of the law and 
the prophets which were to be read on the great 
Sabbath of the Bar-Mitzvah, and also aided him 
in the preparation of a learned and profound 
discourse which he, though a mere youth, was to 
deliver on that auspicious occasion. 

" As these matters did not concern me, I was 
necessarily left out of consideration and had 
now no part in the studies of Raphael, except 

[154] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

that of a mere occasional listener and looker-on. 
For the first time in over seven years Raphael 
and I were separated, no longer joined in study 
nor much together otherwise, for the prepara- 
tions for the Bar-Mitzvah absorbed most of his 
time, and he did not find leisure for our accus- 
tomed walks and pleasures. The change grieved 
me deeply. I realized now as I had not realized 
before the distinction between us ; that he was 
one of the chosen people whose history and reli- 
gion we had been studying, while I was an out- 
sider, a stranger, not privileged to enter into 
close connection with the covenant brethren, nor 
to share in their most intimate concerns, their 
truest joys, and deepest sorrows. I cannot de- 
scribe to you the melancholy which filled my soul 
at this thought ; but it must have showed itself 
in my countenance or demeanor, for Raphael 
noticed it, and with true fraternal sympathy tried 
to soothe and console me. But his well-meant 
efforts were in vain. Nothing could assuage 
the keen pain which rose in my soul whenever 
I reflected that there existed an invisible but 
nevertheless real and undeniable dividing wall 
between me and the human being I loved best, 
a wall that would probably grow thicker and 
stronger as the years rolled on, until it would at 
last keep us utterly asunder, except, perhaps, as 
[155] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

regards the superficial relations of mere formal 
friendship. 

" For months this dull pain gnawed at my 
heart until one day, when the Bar-Mitzvah day 
was no longer far distant, there came to me, all 
unexpectedly and sudden as a lightning flash, 
a thought that promised redemption. ' Why 
need I permit this wall to grow up between 
me and my beloved '^. ' I asked myself. ' Why 
can I not become Raphael's brother in the 
covenant of Israel .f* Israel is God's holy na- 
tion, but it does not jealously restrict its mem- 
bership to those born in the fold. Its gates 
open gladly to welcome those who seek en- 
trance because of true union of sentiment 
with the hereditary guardians of the covenant. 
As Isaiah says : '' Let not the stranger that 
joineth himself unto the Lord say, verily the 
Lord will separate me from His people." I, 
too, may join myself to Israel, may share the 
burdens and the privileges of the Holy people, 
and take upon myself their name.' 

" Thus did my love for a dear Jewish lad sug- 
gest to me to enter into Israel ; but nevertheless 
I did not determine upon the step until I had 
examined my mind and my soul to ascertain 
whether I was fit for this great change. I knew 
that to become a proselyte for any personal mo- 
[156] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

tive alone, no matter how high or ideal it might 
be, were sin. But my self-examination taught 
me my real beliefs, showed me that, spiritually 
if not formally, I already belonged to Israel. 
I recognized that the theological dogmas I had 
been taught in my boyhood no longer possessed 
any charm or validity for my soul, which for 
seven years had drunk deep draughts of life- 
giving water from the fountains of Israel's law 
and tradition. I saw that in Israel was the 
spiritual home where my soul desired to dwell. 
Encouraged and inspired by this recognition, I 
went to the rabbi and communicated to him my 
desire to enter the fold of Israel. He was sur- 
prised at first and rather displeased ; but when I 
told him my story, and informed him that I was 
well instructed in Hebrew lore and familiar with 
the ordinances of Judaism, he declared that he 
could not refuse to accept me as a proselyte. 

'' I now unfolded to him an idea which I had 
conceived in relation to my reception into Juda- 
ism, which pleased him well, and to which he at 
once gave his approval. Under the plea of de- 
siring a vacation, which was readily granted, for 
Raphael was busy with his preparations and my 
services were not really required, I secured a 
leave of absence for several weeks from the 
AUatini household. I went to a little town 
[157] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

some few miles distant, and there in the pres- 
ence of the rabbi and ten Hebrew brethren I 
was circumcised and the name I now bear in 
Israel conferred upon me. I remained there 
until I had thoroughly recovered when I re- 
turned to the Allatini home. No one knew 
of the change which had taken place, for I had 
requested, for reasons of my own, those present 
at the ceremony to divulge nothing for the time 
being; and my wishes had been respected. All 
noticed that I had lost the melancholy air which 
I had borne for several months, and was looking 
contented and happy ; but none knew the rea- 
son for the improvement in my appearance. 

" At last the great day, the Bar-Mitzvah Sab- 
bath, arrived. The synagogue was densely 
packed, for the interest in the event which con- 
cerned so closely the most prominent family in 
the congregation and its well-beloved son was 
universal. On the main floor the noblest and 
best men of the community were assembled, and 
from the galleries the matrons and maidens of 
Israel, arrayed in splendid robes, beamed radi- 
antly down. When the time for the reading of 
the Torah arrived Raphael ascended the Tebah, 
or altar, and at once began to chant from the 
sacred scroll. He was a picture of youthful 
beauty as he stood there; and his voice, pure 
[158] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

and clear as the sweetest of song-birds, filled 
the synagogue with melodious resonance as he 
chanted the solemn sentences of Holy Writ. A 
hum of admiration ran around the synagogue ; 
and all eyes, after feasting with pleasure on 
the beauteous form of the youthful celebrant, 
turned with silent congratulation to the happy 
father and the joyous mother, who showed in 
their beaming countenances what joy dwelt 
within their hearts. Raphael was summoned as 
the third person to pronounce the benediction 
over the law, which he did with great dignity 
and devoutness. His father then ascended the 
altar and made generous offerings for the bene- 
fit of the congregation; and the rabbi, leaving 
his seat and ascending the altar, placed his 
hands upon Raphael's bowed head and pro- 
nounced over him the threefold priestly bless- 
ing. Thus far everything had been conducted 
in the manner usual on such occasions, but now 
a deviation took place. Instead of summoning 
the next person to the Torah, which would have 
been the usual proceeding, the rabbi turned to 
the people and addressed them thus : 

" ' Brethren of Israel ! It has been now our 

privilege to witness the acceptance into full 

membership in the covenant of our beloved 

young friend, Raphael Allatini, to whom and to 

[159] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

whose respected parents we offer our sincere 
well-wishes. It will now be our pleasure to be- 
hold another Bar-Mitzvah, one who is a true be- 
liever in our holy faith, and who has been for 
many years a friend and comrade of our young 
celebrant, and desires not to separate from him 
on this happy day.' 

"All were amazed at the enigmatical words 
of the rabbi ; for no one had heard of an- 
other Bar-Mitzvah, and the fact of my conver- 
sion had been kept a profound secret. The 
Chazan, however, had been let into the secret, 
and in a loud voice he proclaimed : ' Let there 
arise Abraham, son of Abraham, the proselyte 
of righteousness, to read the Torah. May his 
rock protect him.' 

" Profound astonishment reigned in the syn- 
agogue as I, the full-grown man of twenty-five, 
whom all had known as Dimitri the Greek ser- 
vant, arose in my place and ascended the Te- 
bah in a character belonging usually only to 
Hebrew youths of thirteen; and in breathless 
silence they listened while I pronounced the 
benediction over the Torah and read my portion 
with correct accent and melody. When I had 
finished I blessed the Lord with a loud voice; 
and according to the words of the benediction, 
' Blessed art Thou, O Lord, our God, King 
[i6o] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

of the universe, who hast permitted me to live 
and attain to this day,' and all the congre- 
gation shouted ' Amen ! ' The rabbi then 
blessed me with tears in his eyes; and Ra- 
phael fell about my neck and embraced me, 
with radiant smiles, for to him my act meant 
most of all. The rest of the service was con- 
ducted in the usual quiet and solemn manner; 
but when the last chant had been concluded, 
the excitement broke forth. The vast congre- 
gation crowded around the Allatini family, 
Raphael and me, congratulating us most warm- 
ly on the rem-arkable and auspicious event which 
had just taken place. I had almost as great a 
share of popular approval as Raphael, and my 
fidelity and loyalty both to the family I served 
and the religion I had embraced, my devotion 
to my young master, and my attainments in 
Hebrew lore were greatly admired and com- 
mended. Oh, that was a glorious day in my 
life; and, however long the Most High may 
permit me to remain on earth, I shall never for- 
get it. The Allatinis, too, when the first shock 
of surprise was over, acted toward me with the 
utmost love and kindness. I was treated in all 
respects as the equal and comrade of Raphael. 
I sat next to him at the festive board during the 
splendid banquet given the same afternoon in 
II [i6i] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

celebration of the event. After he had de- 
livered his address, I, too, was asked to speak to 
the guests, who included the most respected 
people in the community; and the rabbi, in his 
remarks, referred to me in the kindest terms, 
praising greatly my fidelity and piety and the 
learning I had acquired, and comparing me with 
Shemayah and Abtalion, the distinguished pros- 
elytes who became heads of the Sanhedrin dur- 
ing the period of the second Temple. 

" After the Bar-Mitzvah festivities were over, 
Raphael took up again the interrupted course of 
studies and I was again his companion. I was 
very, very h»ppy. I felt that I had entered into 
the haven of peace and joy in the blessed study 
of God's holy law and the willing fulfilment of 
its precepts, while enjoying also the love of my 
young master, the kindness of his family, and 
the respect of all my newly gained Jewish 
brethren. I asked for nothing better on earth, 
though I did hope that in course of time I 
might be able to ask some well-born maiden of 
Lrael to be my life partner and settle down as a 
worthy Baal Ha-baitk, But, alas ! while I was 
basking in the bright sun of happiness, the 
black clouds were gathering which were des- 
tined to cover with inky pall the fair sky of my 
well-being. 

[162] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

"The romantic incidents of my conversion 
and my public reception as a Bar-Mitzvah 
had excited great public interest among the 
Jewish inhabitants of the island generally and 
were spoken of everywhere. In this way the 
facts came also to the knowledge of the Greek 
Gentiles and aroused their deep anger and 
resentment. Great as was the enmity which 
they bore the children of Jacob, they hated 
with a still intenser hatred the one from their 
own midst who had cast in his lot with the 
ancient people. I soon noticed that I was re- 
garded with great ill favor. When I went 
abroad through the streets of the town on my 
accustomed walks with Raphael, I noticed that 
the men and women gazed at me with black, 
scowling looks, while the children put no re- 
straint on their tongues, but yelled after me, 
* Apostate, renegade, traitor ! ' This discovery, 
while it was certainly not pleasing, did not 
disconcert either me or my friends. There had 
not been any uprising against the Jews in many 
years, and none of us thought that I was of suf- 
ficient importance to be honored with a special 
uprising, exclusively on my account. Soon, 
however, rumors began to be heard that the 
lower orders of people, incited by virulent agi- 
tators, in particular by a fanatical priest of the 
[163] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

neighborhood, were planning an attack on the 
Allatini house for the purpose of seizing me and 
visiting upon me condign punishment — that is 
to say, death — for what they were pleased to call 
my apostasy. This report did cause us some 
anxiety; but we all, in particular Dr. Allatini, 
looked upon it as an idle tale and took no pre- 
caution to ward off any possible calamity. 

" A few nights later the blow fell. Our house 
was in silence and darkness, all having retired 
to rest, when some time after midnight a violent 
knocking and beating at the massive gates of 
the high stone wall, which surrounded the gar- 
den in which stood the Allatini residence, was 
heard. We were all aroused by the clamor and 
hastening to the windows beheld in the road 
outside the gates a great, raging multitude with 
hate-filled countenances, and bearing in their 
hands, besides weapons, flaming torches which 
cast a lurid light over all the scene. No sooner 
did they behold the frightened faces at the win- 
dows (I was not among them, for, realizing at 
once that the clamor had reference to me, I 
kept in the background) than with terrible cries 
and yells they demanded that I be delivered to 
them. ' Give us the apostate, the renegade,' 
they yelled. * We mean no harm to you that 
are born Jews, but we want the blood of the 
[164] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

traitor; and unless you surrender him to us, we 
will destroy the house and slay you all.' 

" Our people held a hasty consultation. I will 
not detain you with all the particulars of our de- 
bate, but the result reached was that it was pos- 
sible for me to be saved. Dr. Allatini took a 
hasty leave of me and then went forth to parley 
with the mob. I hastily dressed myself and 
packed together a few necessary articles. A 
purse of money was pressed into my hands. I 
embraced and kissed my beloved Raphael and 
bade all good-by, then entered a subterranean 
passage-way which led to an adjacent street. 
When I emerged in the next street, the shouts 
and noise of the mob had died down and I real- 
ized that Dr. Allatini had succeeded in quieting 
them. I subsequently learned that he had as- 
sured them that I was not in the house, and had 
given them permission to enter it and search 
for me. I reached the harbor early the next 
morning in safety and took passage in the first 
ship leaving which chanced to be bound for 
Marseilles. 

" With a soul filled with mingled feelings of 
sorrow and gratitude I left my native land, 
sorry that I must leave my dearly beloved one, 
the companion of my youth and early manhood, 
and gratitude to the God of Israel, who had 
[165] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

saved me from the hands of my enemies and 
from the perils of the sea, and brought me in 
safety to a new home. And I thank Him also 
that in this strange land He has led me to a 
brother who has shown himself possessed of true 
fraternal, Jewish love and kindness. And I 
doubt not that He who maketh a path in the 
fierce waters and who protected His servant 
David from the hostile sword, will care for me, 
His humble worshipper, in this strange land 
and grant me His peace and blessing. The 
words of Abraham are finished." 

When the stranger had finished his tale, Ben- 
jamin Dalinski, who had listened in wonder- 
ment to the singular narrative, said to him: 
" Truly, thy tale is strange and interesting ; but 
dost thou not think that thou didst act foolishly ? 
Hadst thou remained in the faith of thy fore- 
fathers thou wouldst not have lost the friendship 
of thy Jewish benefactors, nor have aroused the 
hatred of thy Gentile neighbors. Thou couldst 
have remained in peace in thy native land and 
perhaps have become in later years a great man 
among thy people; whereas now thou art an 
exile and a fugitive, and who knows what will be 
thy lot here in this land ? " 

Abraham gazed at him a moment as though 
he did not understand his words and then an- 
[i66] 



THE PROSELYTE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

swered with indignation as one who repudiates 
a sinful and unworthy suggestion. " I would 
rather eat bread with salt and drink blank water 
as a Yehudi than be a prince and a great man 
among the Gentiles." 

"Ah," said DaHnski, "thou art indeed a 
proselyte of righteousness." 



[167] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 

They were good friends and true, were Isaac 
and Alice. To be sure, they were not exactly 
what most people would consider a well-assorted 
or naturally allied pair; for Isaac was a great 
strapping fellow of about thirty, who could speak 
Yiddish much better than English, while Alice 
was a sweet little girl of not quite five, whose 
childish prattle had a decidedly Yankee twang, 
and whose cradle had stood many thousands of 
miles from the spot where Isaac's infantile eyes 
had first opened upon a strange and trouble- 
some world. Yet that they were close friends 
was an undeniable, if somewhat unaccountable, 
fact. People who saw the stalwart young 
Lithuanian Hebrew carpenter, with the dark 
ringlets and raven beard and the golden-haired 
and blue-eyed little Down East maiden as they 
sat together and conversed during the midday 
hour when Isaac was eating his frugal lunch, or 
as they sauntered hand in hand through the 
streets of the little Massachusetts town, would 
[i68] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



often smile and wonder and make comments, 
sometimes jocular and sometimes sarcastic to 
each other; but neither Isaac nor Alice cared 
what anybody said. They were not afraid of 
scandal and were sublimely indifferent to public 
opinion. They were just good friends and that 
was all about it. They had been good friends 
from the first moment they met, several weeks 
after Isaac had set foot upon the hospitable 
shore of America, and had exhausted the 
greater part of his physical energy and about all 
of his financial resources and of his store of 
courage and hope in the effort to persuade the 
land of the free and the home of the brave to 
provide him with a livelihood. He had entered 
at the port of New York and tried for a week or 
so to find employment at his trade in the me- 
tropolis. But there must have been a plethora 
of carpenters in the great city at that time ; for 
wherever he applied, the answer was the same, 
" No one wanted." He had then determined to 
try the smaller towns and cities, and had wan- 
dered on foot through Connecticut, and had ap- 
plied at hundreds of shops in the many indus- 
trial communities of that State, all the time 
growing fainter and weaker and more discour- 
aged ; and had never heard any other response 
to his request for work than the same monot- 
[169] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

onous refrain, which had now grown terrible in 
its suggestion of despair, "No one wanted." 

" At last he had drifted, he hardly knew how, 
into Massachusetts and had entered the little 
town of Atbury. Hope had almost left him, and 
grim thoughts of suicide filled his mind while 
he wandered aimlessly through the neat and 
well-kept streets of the town. In the course of 
his wanderings he saw a wooden building, upon 
the front of which a large sign proclaimed that 
within was a carpenter shop, and that the own- 
er's name was Thomas Jones. Mechanically 
Isaac entered the large open doorway on his 
usual quest. He had no anticipation of suc- 
cess ; and when Mr. Jones, who was a handsome 
middle-aged man of typical Yankee appearance 
and very brusque and short-spoken, returned 
the usual answer to his timid query, he turned 
to go away with a sinking heart, in which the 
dull pain was not perceptibly keener than it had 
previously been. 

But this time an unprecedented incident oc- 
curred. A pretty little blond-haired, blue-eyed 
girl, a mere tot, was standing next to the pro- 
prietor when the stranger entered the shop, and 
she gazed at his handsome though careworn 
features while he made his pitiable appeal for 
work, with an expression of evident liking, 
[170] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



mingled with sympathy and pity. When he 
turned to depart, surprise and sorrow showed 
themselves plainly in the face of the child ; and 
turning to her father — as you have, no doubt, 
already guessed, sweet reader, it was Alice, 
Thomas Jones's only and dearly beloved child — 
she said: "Why, aren't you going to give the 
poor man work, papa? Just see how sad he 
looks. Don't let him go." 

" Do you want me to keep him, little one?" 
asked the father, gazing at the pleading face of 
his little daughter with amused parental fond- 
ness. 

" Yes I do, papa," said Alice. " I think he is 
a very good man and I want you to keep him." 

" Well," said Thomas Jones, " for your sake 
I'll give him a chance." 

Isaac was not yet out of the shop and the loud 
voice of the master carpenter at once brought 
him back. He speedily demonstrated his ability 
in his trade and was retained, his employer 
impressing upon him that it was the interces- 
sion of the little girl which had given him his 
opportunity. Isaac bowed low before the child 
with reverential gratitude and imprinted upon 
her tiny hand a grateful kiss. Thus began their 
friendship, and it became very warm and sincere 
indeed. Alice took naturally to the broad- 
[171] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

shouldered, pleasant-faced young foreigner; and 
Isaac, who was not only deeply grateful to the 
child for having steered the almost shipwrecked 
vessel of his life into the safe harbor of employ- 
ment and bread, but was also thoroughly social 
and companionable by disposition, did all in his 
power to amuse and entertain his young bene- 
factor. They were not allowed to meet during 
work hours, for Father Jones, though a loving 
and indulgent parent, was a strict and uncom- 
promising task-master, and would tolerate no 
unbusiness-like interruptions during the time 
allotted to work ; but during the noonday inter- 
mission for meals, when Alice would seek Isaac 
in whatever part of the town he happened to be 
employed after the close of work in the late 
afternoon, when Isaac returned to his master's 
house where was his home, they were sure to be 
together, and would romp and " carry on " to 
their heart's content. Nothing pleased them 
better than a " horsey-back " ride, when Isaac 
would act as the fiery though remarkably docile 
steed, and Alice rode her mount in greater secur- 
ity than the most practised equestrienne. Isaac 
would trot and gallop, and pace and paw, and 
prance and snort, and whinny and neigh, like 
the very war-horse of Job, all the time holding 
his little rider in a firm and loving grasp ; while 
[172] 




NOTHING PLEASED THEM BETTER THAN A 

" HORSEY-BACK " RIDE Page 1^2 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



Alice, with streaming locks and flashing eyes, 
would cry " Gee-up I " and " Whoa ! " and pull his 
hair for reins and belabor his shoulders with her 
tiny fists, according to the most approved rules 
of the equestrian art. There were plenty of 
other forms of amusement as well. Sometimes 
they would play " blind-man's buff," when Isaac 
would begin the game by permitting himself to 
be tightly bandaged across the eyes, and would 
then grope around the room in an endeavor to 
catch Alice. But somehow or other he was 
always very clumsy in this game; and Alice 
never had the least trouble to avoid his aimless 
reachings out, and would enjoy herself highly, 
slipping in and out right in front of his very 
face and touching him on all sides. And when 
finally his hand would land on Alice, apparently 
by accident, and capture her, and it would be 
her turn to submit to be bandaged and to try to 
capture him, he seemed even clumsier in his 
movements. He never seemed to know how to 
evade the " blind man," but was continually get- 
ting in the way ; and in two or three minutes at 
the utmost, Alice's tiny hands would seize him 
in their firm grasp, and her shrill cry of triumph 
would proclaim that he was a prisoner. He also 
taught Alice some queer Russian games, which 
were a source of never-failing amazement and 
[173] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

amusement (about equally divided) to all the 
boys and girls in the neighborhood. Then 
sometimes on a holiday, or when work happened 
to be slack, they would go out together berry- 
ing, and would come home with big canfuls of 
blackberries, or blueberries, or huckleberries, or 
raspberries, or some of the other sorts of berries 
which grew at the roadsides or in the fields, 
Alice looking very happy, and Isaac rather tired 
and scratched about the hands; for it was an 
open secret that while Alice had most of the 
fun, Isaac had most of the trouble, and worked 
his very hardest to fill the can with the ripest 
and finest berries that could be found, so that 
the expedition should be properly fruitful of 
results. In these and a hundred other ways 
Isaac endeavored to please his employer's little 
daughter, and his efforts were highly successful, 
so successful, indeed, that the child grew to look 
upon him with warm affection, and was never so 
happy as when in his company. 

Nor was Alice the only one who regarded 
Isaac with affection. Her parents were almost 
equally warm in their sentiments. Thomas 
Jones thought much of him because he was a 
thorough master of his trade, tremendously 
strong, and absolutely faithful and reliable. 
Any task assigned to him, however arduous, 
[174] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



was always performed with scrupulous exactness 
and conscientiousness, and no complaint or ob- 
jection ever escaped his lips. Mrs. Jones liked 
him because he was sober, polite, and cleanly in 
his habits, and because he took such pains to 
please and amuse her little daughter. To be 
sure, there were some points about him which 
they did not exactly like, but his many good 
qualities counterbalanced these defects. One 
of these points was that he would not labor on 
the Sabbath or Jewish holidays. This difficulty 
had arisen the very first week of his employ- 
ment, but the superior character of his work 
had induced Mr. Jones then to retain him, and 
afterward he had grown accustomed to dispens- 
ing with the services of Isaac on Saturdays or 
on any other day when he declared the rules of 
his religion required abstention from labor. 
Another matter which seemed very peculiar to 
both Mr. and Mrs. Jones was that, although 
Isaac boarded with them, he never ate flesh in 
any form and refused to partake of many other 
dishes which appeared on their table. But, as 
the Joneses were kind-hearted and tolerant peo- 
ple, and had besides a genuine liking for Isaac, 
they overlooked these matters, and, if they re- 
flected on them at all, merely thought them the 
natural result of his religious views. 
[175] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

Many were the arguments which the Joneses 
had with some of their neighbors on account of 
Isaac and the peculiar position which he occupied 
in their household. Bigotry and narrow-minded- 
ness are not unknown even in free America, 
where, theoretically, a man's race and religion 
should have no influence, favorable or unfavor- 
able, upon the opinion which is held concerning 
him, and where, if anywhere, the principle 
enunciated by the rabbis in the Talmud should 
prevail — "Thy deeds shall recommend thee, 
thy deeds shall condemn thee." Some of the 
good Christian people of Atbury, who thought, 
like Sancho Panza, that the most essential char- 
acteristic of a Christian was a sound hatred of 
the Jews, could not conceal their amazement, 
nay, their righteous indignation, that a Jew 
should be a favored member of a Christian 
household, and, worse yet, the trusted friend 
and companion of a little Christian maiden. 

" How can you permit an unbeliever to dwell 
in your home?" they would say, with much 
show of holy horror. " Aren't you afraid that 
in course of time he may seduce you or your 
little daughter, with specious reasoning, away 
from the true faith, and lead you into the error 
of Judaism?" But the Joneses would only 
laugh at these pious apprehensions and answer 
[176] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



that Isaac never spoke to them on religious sub- 
jects ; that, while he was undoubtedly sincerely 
religious in his own way, he never obtruded his 
views on others ; and that, in fact, it would not 
have been a bad thing if some people whom 
they knew would have imitated him in this par- 
ticular. 

The neighbors would then try another tack, 
in which they hoped to be more successful. 
" How can you trust Alice to such a person? " 
they would ask, with the solemn air of those 
who warn friends against impending dangers 
which they are rashly incurring. " Aren't you 
afraid that he may do her some harm? You 
never can tell what such a Jew might do. Why, 
in some parts of Europe they even accuse them 
of slaying Christian children in order to use 
their blood for the Passover. It isn't safe to 
leave Alice in his charge." 

But when they came with this argument they 
received a fitting response, which was not lack- 
ing either in clearness or emphasis. The 
Joneses, particularly Mrs. Jones, told them that 
they might be at better business than calumni- 
ating one of whom they knew no evil ; that Isaac 
was the kindest, best-hearted, most devoted fel- 
low in the world ; that he was deeply grateful to 
Alice because she had been the means of sav- 
12 [177] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEI.. 

ing him from starvation, and, as for her being 
in any danger at his hands, why they, the 
Joneses, were convinced that he would at any 
time be ready to give his Hfe rather than see a 
hair of her head harmed. 

Sooner than any one anticipated the oppor- 
tunity came which demonstrated that Isaac was 
indeed ready to lay down his life to save his lit- 
tle friend from harm. A few days after an un- 
usually warm debate of the kind outlined above 
between Thomas Jones and an especially zeal- 
ous neighbor, who had warned Isaac's employer 
that all kinds of dreadful things would certainly 
happen if this unholy friendship were permitted 
to continue, Jones summoned Isaac to him. 
"Come here, you Jew!" he said half jocularly, 
half angrily, for the remembrance of the un- 
charitable words of his officious neighbor was 
still strong in him. " I want to show you what 
I think of you." Isaac at once advanced and 
waited with deferential air for the further words 
of his employer. " I've got a job in the out- 
skirts of the town," continued Jones, gazing 
with satisfaction at the brawny figure and sub- 
missive attitude of his most reliable workman, 
" and, as I can't spare any men from the other 
work, I'm going to put the whole thing in your 
hands. There's a little cottage on the Prentice 
[178] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



place that's got to be jacked up to make room 
for the masons to build a new foundation, and 
then all the board work and carpentering gen- 
erally must be renovated and fixed up. I've 
sent up all the necessary wood already, so you 
can go right up and attend to the whole job 
alone. When you get there you can see for 
yourself what is to be done, and if you don't un- 
derstand* anything, why, just ask old man Pren- 
tice, and he'll tell you what to do." 

Isaac picked up his box of tools and was 
about to depart when little Alice, who had 
been listening to the words of her father, 
skipped up and, laying her hand on Isaac's arm, 
asked eagerly: "Won't you take me along, 
Isaac? I want to be with you when you're do- 
ing the work." 

" Ask your papa, Alice," said Isaac, smiling 
pleasantly at his little friend. " If he will let 
you go, then I'll be glad to take you." 

Alice did not need to ask her father, for the 
latter, without giving her the opportunity to 
speak, at once gave her the desired permission. 
" Yes, indeed, you can go with Isaac," he said, 
with rather more emphasis than was apparently 
necessary. " I'll just show those numbskull 
bigot neighbors of mine what I think of their 
fanatical suspicions and insinuations. Just trot 
[179] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

along, little one, and I wish you lots of pleasure 
seeing Isaac at work." 

Thus duly authorized and permitted, Isaac 
and Alice went off together to the scene of his 
solitary task, which they reached in about half 
an hour. The Prentice place was a little farm 
of two or three acres, in the centre of which 
stood the cottage. It was not a very large 
structure, but Isaac's practised eye at once per- 
ceived that his employer had set him a task 
sufficient to try the strength of three men. Old 
man Prentice was of the same opinion, and very 
emphatically expressed his dissatisfaction that 
Jones had sent only one man to do the work of 
three. Nothing daunted, however, Isaac at 
once set about the performance of his task. 
The first thing to do was to lift the structure, 
which was done by means of appliances called 
jacks. Isaac inserted one of the jacks under 
each of the four corners of the house and 
screwed it up until that part of the building was 
elevated to the desired height. In the mean 
while Alice stood near her favorite and watched 
him at his arduous task, chatting and prattling 
all the while with the careless innocence of 
childhood ; and Isaac, though engrossed in his 
labor, did not fail to answer her childish que- 
ries, and kept his little friend interested and 
[i8o] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



amused. All went well until Isaac came to 
the fourth and last corner and proceeded to 
jack it up as he had done the others. Here, 
by some miscalculation, he raised the corner a 
foot or so more than was necessary. At once 
the frame structure began to careen. Isaac in- 
stantly perceived that the building would cer- 
tainly topple to the ground, and a pang of ago- 
ny shot through his heart as he thought of the 
loss which his mistake, unaccountable even to 
himself, would cause. His next thought was to 
save himself from harm ; but, as he turned to 
flee from under the falling structure, what hor- 
rible sight met his eyes ! Little Alice, petrified 
apparently by fright, was standing motionless 
under the tottering building. A sickening pict- 
ure flashed up instantly before his mental retina 
of her Httle body lying crushed and bleeding 
under the ruins of the building, its life crushed 
out by the overwhelming weight. How could 
he save her ? She was too far away for him to 
seize her and flee with her to safety, neither 
would it avail aught to shout to her to flee. 
Before she could have recovered control of her 
faculties and impelled her limbs to motion, the 
blow would have fallen and all would be over. 
There was but one way to save Alice, and, 
though Isaac knew it meant almost certain 
[i8i] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

death for himself, he instantly determined to do 
it. Placing his powerful shoulders under the 
tilting woodwork, he shouted in a great and ter- 
rible voice to Alice to run — run for her life. 
For a minute or so he stood, like fabled Atlas 
upholding the world, supporting with his tre- 
mendous strength the falling structure, while 
his muscles stood out like whipcords and the 
sweat of agony poured all over his body. In 
that minute Alice recovered herself and toddled 
out of harm's way. A second later the heavy 
framework crushed out the man's strength and 
bore him to the ground with a sickening thud, 
while the harsh crackling of the beams and 
boards as they were torn from their fastenings 
mingled with his awful shriek. He did not 
need to lie there long. Poor little Alice, with 
an intelligence beyond her years, ran to seek 
help from the neighbors; but her frenzied 
efforts were not necessary. The frightful crash 
of the falling building and the fierce, agonized 
shriek of the stricken victim had aroused all the 
neighborhood, and from all sides assistance 
speedily came. The united efforts of old man 
Prentice and a number of laborers who hast- 
ened from a neighboring field speedily suc- 
ceeded in removing the mass of beams and 
boards and odds and ends of woodwork from 
[ 182 ] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



the body of Isaac, and tenderly they laid him 
upon a temporary couch formed of their coats. 
He was crushed and maimed and bloody, every 
limb broken, and his features disfigured almost 
beyond recognition, but he was conscious and a 
happy smile played upon his face when he saw 
that Alice had escaped all injury and was safe 
and sound. 

"Come to me, little darling," he said, in 
barely audible tones, gazing wistfully at the 
child-friend for whom he had given his life; 
"come and bid me good-bye, for I feel that I 
must go. I do not complain because God is 
calling me away, but I am glad your young life 
is spared to be a joy to yourself and your dear 
parents for many years to come." And his 
young friend, with strangely grave and solemn 
face, went to her dying protector and clasped 
his hand and kissed his blood-stained and dis- 
torted features, and called him her own dear 
Isaac, and begged him not to die, while the 
strong men who stood around bowed their 
heads in reverent sorrow and silently wept. 
Then they bore him home, and Alice's parents, 
when they heard the story of what he had done, 
knew not of which feeling their hearts were ful- 
ler — of gratitude that their darling daughter 
was safe or of admiration for the pure and self- 

[183] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

sacrificing friendship which Isaac had so hero- 
ically displayed and sorrow for his untimely 
end. He had relapsed into semi-consciousness 
and lay for several hours without speaking on 
his couch. Then he stirred uneasily and fee- 
bly beckoned to his employer, indicating that 
he desired to communicate something to him. 
Thomas Jones, who had not left the room since 
first Isaac had been brought home, at once 
went to the bedside, and putting his ear to the 
mouth of the dying man, heard him say in a 
feeble voice: "Dear master, promise me one 
favor. I die a Jew. Have me laid away 
among my people." 

And Thomas Jones answered: "Isaac, I 
promise." 

A look of infinite content and gratitude lit 
up Isaac's face. Then, rising slightly on his 
side, he recited in Hebrew, in a clear though 
feeble voice, the words of the Jewish ritual for 
the dying: " Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, 
the Lord is one. Blessed be the glorious name 
of Thy kingdom for ever and ever. Into Thy 
hands I deliver my spirit. Thou hast redeemed 
me, O Lord, God of truth." And so he passed 
away. 

Every year, on the anniversary of Isaac's 
death, Alice, now a maiden ripening into wom- 
[184] 



ISAAC AND ALICE. 



anhood, visits Isaac's grave in the Jewish ceme- 
tery in Boston in which he rests ; and if sincere 
tears and true sorrow are acceptable in the sight 
of God, then is her offering indeed acceptable 
and holy. 



[1S5] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER 

" Scissors to grind ! Knives, axes, or saws to 
sharpen ! Everything made as sharp as new ! " 
This is the cry, uttered in a clear and cheerful 
voice, which is frequently heard in the alleys 
and back yards as well as the streets and ave- 
nues of that vast and densely populated section 
of the American metropolis known as the great 
East Side. The man who utters it is an unusu- 
ally agreeable, as well as active and energetic, 
representative of the classic trade of scissors- 
grinding. He is a pleasant-faced, good-hu- 
mored young fellow, with light-brown hair and 
rounded, open countenance, from which a pair 
of bright blue eyes gaze at you with a frank and 
sympathetic expression. His shabby clothes 
hang most gracefully on his lithe and erect, not 
over tall figure; his motions have a sort of 
trained elegance about them, and when he 
stands before you with his grinding machine 
on his back, he seems not so much an humble 
sharpener of domestic utensils, but rather some 
strange sort of soldier, and the machine upon 
[i86] 



„ \ 




/ V 






THE SCISSORS GRINDER 



Pa^e i86 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



his back some peculiar and unusual engine of 
warfare. He is very well liked in the entire 
district, and his popularity brings in sufficient 
trade to insure him a very fair living. When 
his clear and musical cry is heard anywhere in 
the neighborhood, the customers pour forth 
from the many-storied tenements, the cellar 
dwellings (I had almost written cave dwell- 
ings, which term would hardly have rendered 
me liable to a suit for libel if I had used it), and 
the little shops and stalls which abound every- 
where in the vicinity. Soon he is surrounded 
by a motley throng — Jews, Italians, Poles, Bo- 
hemians, men, women, and children, all sorts 
and conditions of mankind — who bring him a 
miscellaneous collection of invalid table knives, 
dilapidated carving knives, superannuated scis- 
sors, and antediluvian saws, all of which he is 
expected to heal and to restore to their pristine 
brightness and sharpness. 

But, though our friend is well known and 
popular in the district, he is nevertheless un- 
known. By this paradoxical statement is meant 
that, although the scissors-grinder is personally 
a familiar and well-esteemed figure, nothing is 
known by the vast bulk of his constituents and 
customers of his connections, his history, or his 
antecedents. This is nothing strange or un- 

[187] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

usual in that section. People are not, as a rule, 
curious concerning each other on the East Side. 
The inhabitants are mostly not native to the 
soil, but are a chance aggregation from all the 
countries of the civilized world, driven from 
their native habitats by the storm and stress of 
harsh experiences and brought together in the 
New World by the glittering attractions of the 
Golden Land. It is not always advisable under 
such circumstances to be over-inquisitive con- 
cerning the past history of one's neighbors and 
friends, and therefore the dwellers on the East 
Side are discreetly devoid of curiosity, and are 
quite content if the people with whom they as- 
sociate are, in their present stage of life, decent 
and well behaved. That is why no one knows 
(or knew until recently) anything about the scis- 
sors-grinder — his history, his family, or even his 
name. Nevertheless his story came out some 
time ago, and it proved to be, what no one 
would have anticipated from the scissors-grind- 
er's blithe and pleasant appearance, a real moral 
tragedy, a tale of blind, mediaeval oppression, of 
high ambition suddenly blasted, of strange and 
sublime heroism. It came out through Mendel 
Greenberger. 

Mendel, who keeps a little optician shop in 
Orchard Street near Grand, is considerable of a 
[i88] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



character himself, and, unHke the majority of 
the denizens of the region, is gifted with a Hvely 
curiosity concerning the persons with whom he 
comes in contact. Mendel has travelled pretty 
much all over the world, and has acquired in 
the course of his wanderings the knowledge of a 
dozen or more languages and of at least three 
trades. But what he most prides himself on is 
his fnenschenkenntniss^ that is, his ability to rec- 
ognize at a glance the origin of strangers whom 
he sees for the first time, and to classify them 
according to the racial, religious, and social 
elements or subdivisions thereof to which they 
belong. This he infers from the appearance, 
conduct, and speech of the individuals con- 
cerned, and, in particularly interesting cases, he 
manages to have them reveal their names and 
other personal details of interest, but without 
asking direct questions, which he thinks imper- 
tinent. 

When the scissors-grinder began to come into 
the neighborhood and Mendel began to give 
him employment in his vocation, he at once 
recognized that here was an interesting and 
extremely puzzling personality. It was a real 
problem of the kind Mendel Greenberger loved 
to solve, but it defied his powers of analysis and 
classification. For the life of him he could not 
[189] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

make out who or what the handsome, pleasant- 
spoken young man, with the lowly trade appar- 
ently so unsuited for him, was. His type was 
absolutely non-distinctive. As far as appear- 
ance went there was no telling whether he was 
Jew or Gentile, and no reason to assign him to 
any one European nation rather than another. 
His conduct and manner were just as little 
guide, for, though polite and manifestly well 
bred, he had no mannerisms of any kind. Baf- 
fled by his inability to " locate " his new acquain- 
tance by these usually infallible indications, 
Mendel resorted to the expedient of addressing 
him in various languages. But here Mendel 
"tripped up," so to speak, even more emphati- 
cally than before. The scissors-grinder spoke, 
with one exception, every European language 
which Mendel did, but with superior accent and 
correcter grammar. His English was that of 
one to the manner born, though devoid of either 
Cockney accent or Yankee twang ; his French 
would have done credit to any boulevardier ; his 
German was as faultlessly exact in construction 
and pronunciation as that of any compatriot of 
Goethe or Schiller ; and as for Italian, Spanish, 
Russian, Polish, and Hungarian, to say nothing 
of the minor tongues, Bohemian, Roumanian, 
Servian, Greek, Turkish, he spoke them all with 
[190] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



perfect ease and fluency. It mattered not in 
what tongue the puzzled Mendel addressed him, 
the scissors-grinder always answered in the 
same, but without betraying any surprise and 
as though it were the natural and to-be-expected 
thing to speak any and every idiom in existence. 
But, as already stated, there was one exception 
to the polyglot ability of the scissors-grinder. 
He did not know Yiddish, for when Mendel ad- 
dressed him in that tongue, he did not under- 
stand him well and answered in German, the 
tongue most nearly related to the dialect of the 
Jews of the Slavonic lands, and without using 
any Hebrew words or phrases with which even 
the German Jews habitually interlard their 
speech. Mendel had to confess to himself that 
the scissors-grinder was an enigma, which even 
he, with his great knowledge of human beings, 
could not solve. Of two things, however, he 
felt certain: first, that the scissors-grinder was 
originally of far higher social station than his 
humble vocation would suggest, for his manners 
and bearing, and, above all, his extraordinary 
linguistic attainments, were only explainable on 
the ground of refined surroundings and the best 
of education ; secondly, that he was no Jew, for 
his ignorance of Yiddish and Hebrew and his 
manifest unfamiliarity with Jewish ideas and 
[191] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

usages showed conclusively that he had had no 
Jewish bringing up nor had ever associated inti- 
mately with Jewish circles. 

Mendel at first conjectured that the scissors- 
grinder was a nobleman of some European na- 
tion, who had been compelled to leave his na- 
tive land for a political or other reason, and was 
obliged to support himself by his own labor in 
exile. Noblemen in exile do not, however, usu- 
ally select a vocation requiring as much skill 
and industry and withal so low in the social 
scale as scissors-grinding, so on second thought 
Mendel abandoned this conjecture as untenable, 
and, not being able to set up any more satisfac- 
tory one, found himself, as far as this question 
was concerned, vis a vis de rien. Not feeling 
able to remain in this condition, he cast about 
for other means of solving the problem and 
gratifying his curiosity. He determined to ask 
the scissors-grinder's name. Names, it is true, 
may be assumed, but Mendel thought that even 
an assumed name would be some sort of clew to 
its bearer's identity, for it would, at least, indi- 
cate to what nation or class the bearer consid- 
ered himself and desired to have others consider 
him as belonging. Accordingly when next the 
scissors-grinder appeared in the neighborhood 
of Mendel's shop and was bringing back finely 
[192] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



renovated the penknife which Mendel had 
given him to sharpen, the latter remarked: 
"Fine weather we are having to-day, Mr. 
! " and paused with expectant air. 

" My name," said the scissors-grinder quietly, 
" is Eliezer Schwartzfeld." 

Mendel gazed at him in undisguised astonish- 
ment. " That sounds extremely Jewish," he 
said. " You are not one of the chosen people, 
are you?" 

"Yes, I am a Jew," answered the scissors- 
grinder, with just a suggestion of a smile at 
Mendel's evident surprise ; " a Russian Jew at 
that, too." 

Mendel's astonishment increased to a degree 
that was absolutely comical. Here was an ut- 
terly inexplicable case. It was not that the 
scissors-grinder's physiognomy did not contain 
a feature that suggested the Semite— that was 
common enough, especially among Russian 
Jews ; but what might be called the psychology 
of the case was utterly baffling to Mendel. He 
had often met Jews that were well educated and 
spoke a number of languages with fluency, but 
in all his experience he had never come across 
one who had not at least some, however slight, 
acquaintance with the Jewish mother tongues, 
Yiddish or Hebrew. He had frequently come 
13 [ 193 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

in contact with Jews, well and gently reared in 
their native lands, who had been forced by ad- 
verse circumstances to earn their bread by 
humble labor in America ; but they had invari- 
ably found employment in some one of the so- 
called " Jewish " branches of industry, tailoring, 
cloak-making, cigar-packing, or the like, which 
open at least the door to a future as an inde- 
pendent manufacturer or merchant. But some- 
thing so plebeian and hopeless as scissors-grind- 
ing, and embraced, too, by a man of evident 
refinement — why, that was utterly anomalous, 
unheard of ! He gazed at the scissors-grinder 
without uttering a word, but with eyes which 
told unmistakably their tale of amazement. 

" You are surprised," said the latter, " I sup- 
pose, because I, though a Jew, do not speak 
Yiddish, and because I found nothing better to 
do than to sharpen scissors and knives. Let 
me tell you my story and you will wonder no 
longer. I can recollect very little of my earliest 
childhood. My mother must have died, I 
think, when I was hardly more than an infant, 
for all I can recollect of her is a picture, very 
dim and faint, of a sweet, motherly face bending 
over me and of a tender, loving voice calling me 
darling and dove. My father, too, must have 
left this earth when I was only about four or 
[ 194 ] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



five years of age. My memories of him, too, 
are few and indistinct. I can recall that I was 
a very small child in charge of an old, cross- 
tempered woman, a Jewess, I think, who treated 
me with a strange alternation of cruelty and 
kindness. My father used to visit me at rare 
intervals in this place, and bring me sweetmeats 
and little presents, and I can remember that on 
these occasions he was always dressed in a bril- 
liant uniform, which filled my childish heart 
with admiration and awe. My most distinct 
recollection concerning my father is of the cir- 
cumstances attending his death. He was 
brought to the house one day with blood- 
stained bandages around his head and breast 
and with face ghastly pale. They laid him 
upon a couch, and for several days physicians 
came to treat him, and men dressed in even 
brighter and finer uniforms than his came to 
visit him, and some of them chucked me under 
the chin and called me a fine little fellow. 
Then one day he called me to his bedside and 
said to me, in such a faint voice that I had to 
put my ear to his mouth in order to catch his 
words: 'Eliezer, my darling boy, I am going to 
die and must leave you alone in the world. 
But I have spoken to good people, and they 
have promised me to care for you and to see 
[195] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

that you are educated to become what your 
father was — a soldier — but a higher and nobler 
one than he could be. Always be good and 
honorable in all your doings, and above all, my 
son, never forget, wherever you may be or what- 
ever you may become, that you are a Jew, as 
your father was, and never permit anything to 
swerve you from your faithfulness to the holy 
traditions of our religion and people.' Then he 
kissed me on my brow, and, child though I was, 
I knew that something dreadful was going to 
happen, and burst forth into an agony of bitter 
weeping that shook my little frame convulsively. 
That same night he died, and the day after the 
next he was taken away in the midst of a great 
concourse of people, among whom were many 
Jewish men and women whom I knew not, and 
who wept and cried aloud as they accompanied 
the funeral procession. There was also a long 
line of soldiers, who marched with flags draped 
and guns reversed, and in front of whom went 
musicians and drummers with crape-covered 
drums, who played together a sad, funereal 
strain as they marched. I was left behind, 
gazing out of the window at the funeral proces- 
sion as long as it was in sight, weeping as 
though my very heart would break and feeling 
that I was left all alone now in the world, with- 
[196] 




WAS LEFT BEHIND, GAZING OUT OF THE WINDOW 
AT THE FUNERAL PROCESSION. 

Page igb 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



out friend, protector, or well-wisher. But the 
same afternoon a kindly spoken, friendly look- 
ing officer, attired in a brilliant uniform, came 
to my lodgings, told the old woman who had 
charge of me that he was Col. Ivan Mentchi- 
koff, and that he had been appointed legal 
guardian of Corporal Schwartzf eld's son and 
had come to take me away. I noticed that the 
old woman did not seem satisfied, and grumbled 
something to herself with a discontented air, 
but she did not audibly object, but took the 
money which the colonel offered her. She 
then packed together my little belongings, car- 
ried them down to the carriage which was wait- 
ing at the door, and the colonel and I entered 
and drove off to the railroad station, whence we 
left for the colonel's home, which was in the 
town of Yellisavetgrad, many miles away. I 
remained with the family of the colonel for 
eight or nine years. I was treated with the ut- 
most kindness — in fact, in all regards, except 
one, exactly like the children of the family. 
Colonel Mentchikoff was very particular in 
regard to the education of his children. He 
kept the best of private tutors for all subjects, 
and was especially insistent that they should 
learn all the chief European languages, a 
knowledge of which, he declared, was essential 
[197] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

to a Russian gentleman. I had, of course, the 
advantage of all this, the same as all the others, 
and I quickly discovered that I had a special 
linguistic talent, and, while I easily kept pace 
with the Mentchikoff boys and girls in all the 
subjects of instruction generally, as regards the 
acquisition of languages I was so superior that 
I could not be compared with them at all. It 
was no trouble at all to me to acquire a new 
language; the forms seemed to impress them- 
selves naturally on my mind, and my memory 
retained with the greatest ease the multitudes 
of new terms and expressions which each 
tongue presented. 

" The point in which my education differed 
from that of my companions was that of relig- 
ion. Colonel Mentchikoff was a zealous adher- 
ent of the Greek Church, and insisted that his 
children should be instructed in its doctrine, 
and also that they should attend worship regu- 
larly in the beautiful church of the town. I 
was exempted from both these requirements, 
but, as he did not forbid my attendance at 
them, I formed the habit of being of my own 
accord present at the lessons in religion which 
a certain pope gave them twice weekly, and I 
was frequently present at service in the church 
on Sundays and feast days. Hebrew instruc- 
[198] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



tion I did not receive, and was, to my shame I 
must confess, utterly ignorant of the teachings 
of the religion in which I was born and to 
which my father, on his dying bed, had adjured 
me to be faithful. I did not, however, feel at all 
attracted to the teachings of Greek Christianity. 
My attendance at church and lessons was in- 
duced solely by curiosity, and I often found my- 
self smiling contemptuously at the things my 
companions were obliged to learn and believe. 
As I knew and kept nothing of Judaism either, 
I suppose I must have been classed at that time 
as a youthful heathen. 

** After I had been about two years in Colonel 
Mentchikoff's house he told me my father's 
story and the reason why he, the colonel, was 
so friendly to me. My father, it seems, had 
been a soldier in the Russian army most of his 
life, and had attracted attention because of his 
gallantry and fidelity. He had taken part in 
many battles in the Caucasus and had risen to 
the rank of corporal, which was as high as an 
uneducated man and a Jew could aspire. In a 
fierce hand-to-hand struggle in one of those 
battles he had saved the life of Colonel Ment- 
chikoff, who had then, impelled by gratitude, 
asked him in what way he could recompense 
him for the great service he had rendered him, 
[ 199 ] ' 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

My father, blessed be his memory, who was as 
unassuming and modest as he was brave, an- 
swered that he desired no recompense for him- 
self, as he had only done his duty in defending 
his commander, but that he had an only child, 
a son, whose mother had died while he was yet 
an infant, and that he, my father, desired, in 
case he met his death in the war, that the colo- 
nel should see that the boy was cared for and 
properly educated, and if in future years the in- 
tolerant laws should be changed and it would 
be permitted to Jews to become military offi- 
cers, that he should endeavor to have him ad- 
mitted to the military academy and prepared 
for the martial career. All this the colonel had 
willingly promised, and thought it but a slight 
reward for the saver of his life. 

"Shortly after my father received his death 
wound at the hand of one of the savage warriors 
of the Caucasus. He was brought, at his own 
urgent request, to the house where his little son 
was living in charge of an old nurse, to pass the 
few remaining days of his existence ; and when 
he had died he received, in consideration of his 
exceptional merit, the distinguished honor of a 
great military funeral. The colonel, had then 
taken formal charge of me, and ever since I had 
resided in his home. The colonel assured me 
[ 200 ] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



that he loved me dearly, for the sake of my 
father, whose memory he held sacred, and that 
he would do all in his power to promote my 
welfare and to assist me to embrace the military 
career as my father had desired. He was as 
good as his word. Until my fourteenth year 
he cared for me in the most liberal and kind- 
hearted manner, providing equally well for my 
physical and intellectual needs, and then, since 
I had reached the age when youths, intending 
to take up the military career must begin their 
studies, he procured my admission into the 
Imperial Military Academy at St. Petersburg. 
The illiberal laws prohibiting the conferring of 
commissions on Hebrews had not, it is true, 
been formally abrogated, but the spirit of toler- 
ance was abroad in the land ; it was in the days 
of the good Czar Alexander II., who had in so 
many ways alleviated the lot of all the oppressed 
peoples of his realm, and so my kind protector 
and guardian met with no difficulties or dis- 
couragements in seeking my admission into the 
academy. On the contrary, the officials of the 
institution were exceedingly kind and sym- 
pathetic. They received me with open arms 
as the orphan son of the gallant Corporal 
Schwartzfeld, of whose heroic record they were 
well aware, and as the ward of the wqll-con- 
[201] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

nected and influential Colonel Mentchikoff. 
The fact of my being a Hebrew was hardly re- 
ferred to, or, if any casual mention thereof was 
made, it was accompanied with the statement 
that that would undoubtedly make no differ- 
ence in my case, and that, in view of my excep- 
tional recommendations, I need anticipate no 
difHculty in obtaining a satisfactory appoint- 
ment when once I had completed my course. 

" I took leave of my benefactors with tears 
and embraces — and to this day I cannot think 
of Colonel Mentchikoff and his good, kind 
family without being deeply moved, for they 
were noble, true-hearted people, and very good 
to me — and took up my studies at the military 
academy. I will not refer at length to my ca- 
reer at the military academy, for now it makes 
no. difference whether I did well or poorly, and, 
besides, it were foolish for the poor scissors- 
grinder to boast of the past glories of his life. 
Suffice it to say that I more than held my own 
in every branch of instruction, and made, be- 
sides, a specialty of three subjects. I devoted 
myself with great zeal to the pursuit of military 
engineering and languages, and also sought to 
acquire an expert knowledge of the manufac- 
ture and preparation of weapons, both of those 
which cut and those which discharge projectiles. 
[ 202 ] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



The latter two branches of knowledge I pur- 
sued with the idea that they would be particu- 
larly useful if ever I became a member of the 
general staff or obtained some high military 
political post, when a knowledge of languages, 
particularly of the Slavonic tongues, and ability 
to criticise the quality of weapons furnished to 
the army would be invaluable. I thought of 
myself as a soldier, and a soldier only. To 
other matters I hardly devoted a thought, so 
absorbed was I in my preparations for my pro- 
spective vocation — least of all to religious loy- 
alty or Hebraic traditions. During all the 
seven years of my attendance at the military 
academy I never entered a synagogue — in fact, 
I would not have known what to do had I gone 
there, for I was utterly ignorant of Hebrew and 
knew nothing of the mode or manner of wor- 
ship among the Jews; I never kept a Jewish 
holiday, never was present at a religious gather- 
ing of any kind, for I had given up also my 
former curiosity concerning Christianity ; I did 
not associate with or even know any Hebrew; 
in short, to all intents and purposes, I forgot that 
I was a Jew or had any need to consider the ques- 
tion of my relation to my ancestral faith, and my 
friends and colleagues at the academy, who were 
all very liberal-minded and tolerant, did not re- 
[203] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

mind me of it in any way. Personally I was 
popular with both teachers and students, and, 
when the last year of the course began, I received 
an unofficial intimation from the faculty that, on 
account of my exceptional proficiency in techni- 
cal matters, I would be recommended for appoint- 
ment after graduation as a captain of engineers. 
" At last the day of days, long looked for — 
commencement ^ arrived. I had passed a 
splendid examination and was designated vale- 
dictorian of the class. The great aula or hall 
of the academy was filled to overflowing with a 
brilliant and distinguished assemblage, among 
them brave men and fair women, bearers of the 
proudest and most ancient names in Russia. 
At the front of the hall facing the stage sat, in 
two long rows, the graduates, in their natty 
uniforms, among them myself. At the front of 
the stage, at a table on which were flowers, the 
graduates' diplomas, and other papers, sat the 
venerable General Popoff , president of the acad- 
emy, and behind him the faculty and a large 
number of honored visitors. Just before the 
hour appointed for the beginning of the ceremo- 
nies, an orderly entered the hall, strode up to 
General Popoff, saluted in regulation military 
fashion, handed him a note, saluted again, and 
retired. I do not know why it was, but a shiver 
[ 204 ] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



of apprehension went through me as I saw this 
action. I felt instinctively that it concerned 
me and boded me no good. The General 
opened the letter, my eyes mustering him pain- 
fully the while, and I could see him start as he 
read its contents. For a moment he sat with 
his head resting on his hands, evidently plunged 
in deep thought. Then he summoned an at- 
tendant and spoke a few words to him. A mo- 
ment later the attendant stood at my side. 

" ' The General desires to speak to you in the 
room at the side of the stage,' he said. 

"The hot blood surged impetuously to my 
head and my heart beat violently as I entered 
the room whither I had been summoned. Gen- 
eral Popoff was already in and looked at me 
pityingly as I entered. ' At your command. 
General,' I said, concealing my agitation with a 
mighty effort and saluting stiffly. The General 
did not answer, but handed me a paper, evi- 
dently the letter which he had just received. 
It was an official communication, bore the gov- 
ernmental seal, and read as follows: 

" ' Ministry of War. 

" ' To General Alexei Popoff, President of the 
Imperial Military Academy. 
" ' Sir : The receipt of your report certifying 
to the cadets entitled to graduation and recom- 
■ [ 205 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

mending the same to various appointments in 
the army is hereby acknowledged. The same is 
approved, and you are authorized to issue cer- 
tificates of graduation to all the cadets therein 
named, with the exception of Cadet Schwartz- 
feld. In his case there appears to be some 
doubt whether he has been properly baptized in 
the Orthodox Church, and you are hereby or- 
dered to withhold his certificate until you have 
convinced yourself that such is the case. 
" * In the name of the Minister, 

" ' Krasnewitz, Secretary^ 



" I read the note through two or three times. 
Its contents seemed to burn themselves with 
letters of fire into my brain. I looked at the 
General. He did not say anything and ap- 
peared deeply agitated. At last I forced myself 
to address him, and my voice sounded strangely 
harsh and metallic as I spoke: 

" * What is to be done in this matter, your 
Excellency ? ' I said. 

" ' My dear boy,' said the General, and the true 
note of sympathy rang in his voice, ' I sent in 
my report over a month ago, and, not receiving 
any answer, I thought everything was well and 
that I could go ahead. I did not think this 
would happen. There is only one thing that 
you can do. You must go and have yourself 
baptized in the orthodox faith, or else you can 
[ 206 ] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



receive neither your certificate nor your ap- 
pointment, and your career is at an end.' 

"'But how about this evening's affair?' I 
said, and the whole world seemed reeling about 
me. ' Am I not to receive my certificate ? 
Am I not to deliver my valedictory? ' 

" ' Strictly speaking, you should not be per- 
mitted to do either,' said the General, and his 
voice sounded even more sympathetic than be- 
fore ; ' but I should be sorry to see you suffer 
public humiliation. I will tell you what I can 
do. If you will promise me that to-morrow 
you will go and be baptized, I will accept your 
word of honor and you shall receive your certifi- 
cate and deliver your address. But you must 
answer me at once,' and he glanced at his 
watch, ' for the hour is growing late and the 
proceedings must soon begin.' 

" My brain seemed to become paralyzed and 
to lose all power of thought as I listened to the 
General's words, kindly spoken, but, oh, so bit- 
ter to me. My heart struck at my breast as 
though it would burst its confines. I longed to 
give the answer the General desired, but the fig- 
ure of my dying father, lying outstretched upon 
his couch of suffering, rose suddenly before me ; 
again I saw his pale face and blood-stained 
bandages, and again I heard his faint voice say- 
[207] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

ing, 'Above all, my son, never forget that you 
are a Jew, and never permit anything to swerve 
you from your faithfulness to the holy tradi- 
tions of our religion and people' — and I could 
not. 

" ' I cannot give you that promise now, your 
Excellency,' I said, in a broken voice, whose 
agonized groaning was perceptible even to me. 
* I must have time to think over the matter.' 

" ' In that case,' said the General, and his 
voice sounded distinctly harder, ' I must ask 
you to leave the hall, where your presence has 
become improper ; and any time you are ready 
to take the necessary steps you can notify me, 
and I will see to it that you receive your certifi- 
cate and appointment.' 

" I saluted and retired. I went to my seat, 
took my miHtary cap, and, without saying a 
word to my fellow-students, at once left the 
hall, though I could not fail to notice the buzz 
of astonishment from both cadets and audience 
as I strode through the aisle toward the door. 
That night on my couch I fought a fiercer bat- 
tle than any in which I could ever have taken 
part had I been privileged to enter upon my 
projected career. Two opposing forces were 
arrayed against each other and contended 
fiercely — on the one side self-interest and the 
[208] 



THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. 



disappointment, naturally intense, at seeing an 
ardently desired career thus cruelly cut off, 
nipped not even in the bud ; on the other side 
filial devotion and a newly awakened sense of 
racial and religious loyalty. The one said: 
' Why ruin yourself? What does Judaism con- 
cern you? You have never observed its pre- 
cepts. Let them sprinkle the three drops over 
you. It is only the ticket of admission to your 
future. Inwardly you can remain as you are.' 
The other said little. It was only the pale face 
of my dying father and his faint voice speak- 
ing: ' Above all, my son, never forget that you 
are a Jew, and never permit anything to swerve 
you from your faithfulness to the holy tradi- 
tions of our reHgion and people.' 

"All night long the battle raged, while I 
tossed on my weary couch and never closed an 
eye; but when the early morning light stole 
through my lattice, my father had won the vic- 
tory. I rose, hastily made my toilet, and wrote 
a letter to the General, informing him that my 
decision had been made to remain loyal to my 
faith, even at the cost of my career. On the 
same day I packed together my belongings and 
left forever that Russia that had grown hateful 
to me. I sailed at once for America, the land 
where men are free and where the State does 
14 [ 209 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

not ask what is a man's descent or religion be- 
fore permitting him to consecrate his services to 
it. In New York I found that my talents and 
knowledge did not avail in securing a position. 
Every place seemed filled and there was no 
lack of people of education looking unsuccess- 
fully for work. But, fortunately, I understood 
the art of sharpening and tempering steel 
blades, and thus I became a knife-sharpener 
and scissors-grinder, and manage to support 
myself. Now you know why I am in New 
York, a scissors-grinder and a Jew, instead of 
being in Russia, a captain of engineers and a 
Christian. Can I sharpen anything else for 
you to-day? No, next time; all right, good- 
bye." 

And the scissors-grinder went forth in search 
of other customers, merrily whistling the while 
and leaving Mendel Greenberger behind, 
plunged in deep reflection. 



[210] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 

Novo-Kaidansk was a most shlemihlig sort 
of place, and Yerachmiel Sendorowitz was the 
most shlemihlig of all its inhabitants. Indeed, 
his character as such was so pronounced and 
universally known that he was seldom referred 
to by his proper cognomen, but usually spoken 
of as "Yerachmiel Shlemihl," or, in shorter 
form, " the Shlemihl!' For the benefit of those 
of my readers who are not familiar with the Ju- 
daeo-German idiom, I will explain that the noun 
" Shlemihr is generally supposed to be a cor- 
ruption of the first name of Shelumiel ben Zuri- 
shaddai, one of the princes of Israel in the 
wilderness, of whom Heine has sung, and who, 
according to Jewish tradition, was a most awk- 
ward sort of fellow, who was continually getting 
into all sorts of scrapes. The noun " Shlemihl^' 
accordingly, signifies an aggravated sort of 
ne'er-do-well, a hopeless incapable ; and the ad- 
jective derived therefrom is synonymous with 
all that is utterly unprogressive and wretched. 

Both Novo-Kaidansk and Yerachmiel Sendo- 

[211] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

rowitz were deserving of these appellations in 
fullest measure. The town was a collection of 
miserable huts and shanties, irregularly scat- 
tered over the dull expanse of a Lithuanian 
plain, with unpaved streets that were ankle- 
deep in dust most of the summer, and knee- 
deep in mud and slush and snow most of the 
winter. The man was a woe-begone specimen 
of humanity, with hungry eyes gazing at you 
out of a careworn, furrowed countenance, the 
lower part of which was surrounded by a neg- 
lected-looking, reddish beard; clad in an aged 
suit of many colors — a man who was ready to 
do any and every work for a few kopecks, and 
who was rarely so fortunate as to see a whole 
rouble. He was not a bad sort of fellow at all, 
nor stupid. On the contrary, he had somewhat 
of a smattering of Hebrew education, and he 
endured with patience the unceasing chidings 
and naggings of his wife Shprinze, who, despite 
the auspicious significance of her name — a Yid- 
dish corruption of the melodious Spanish ap- 
pellation Esperanza — Hope — and thus also a 
far-off reminder of the sojourn of the children 
of Israel in the beautiful Iberian peninsula — 
did nothing to inspire the spouse of her bosom 
with courage or confidence, but was enough to 
break down the resolution of any man. He 
[212] 




L'HE MAN WAS A WOE-BEGONE SPECIMEN OF HUMAN- 
ITY, WITH HUNGRY EYES GAZING AT YOU 
OUT OF A CARE-WORN, FURROWED 
COUNTENANCE 

Pasre 212 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



was never known to answer her revilings with a 
single harsh word. No doubt much of his pa- 
tience was due to his knowledge of the fact that 
Shprinze had ample provocation, for, whatever 
might have been the reason, Yerachmiel simply 
could not earn a living. But, though Shprinze 
had provocation for her ill-temper, justification 
she had none. Yerachmiel did the very best 
he could, and it was not his fault but only the 
cruelty of unfeeling fate which prevented him 
from extracting even "bread of adversity and 
water of affliction" from the world. He tried 
to earn a little by being a porter or burden- 
bearer for one of the merchants of the town 
at very scanty wages, but just as he was about 
to get the place, along came a younger and 
stronger man and offered to do the work for 
even less. Needless to say, the latter was 
selected. He thought he could earn his live- 
lihood by being a Mithassek, that is to say, one 
who watches at the bed of the dead and per- 
forms the funeral ablutions and rites; but it 
was provokingly healthy that season. No one 
died for a long time ; and when at last the angel 
of death did claim one of the Hebrew residents 
of Novo-Kaidansk — a wealthy Baal Ha-Bayith 
he was, too, whose family always paid liberally 
for all services rendered to any of its members 
[213] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

— it just happened that they had a poor relative, 
an aged man of greater learning and stricter 
piety than Yerachmiel; and so, of course, he 
was preferred, and Yerachmiel was not con- 
sidered at all. At one time he dealt in fruit, 
purchasing a small stock with a sum of money 
which a pitying philanthropist had given him in 
order to set him up in business; but the de- 
mand for fruit was very slack just then, and in 
a short time Yerachmiel decided to retire from 
that line of commerce with the capital which he 
had originally possessed, that is to say, nothing. 
He made a dozen other attempts to coax the 
unwilling world into providing him with sus- 
tenance, but each attempt ended with the same 
result — failure, and caused him to sink appre- 
ciably lower in the estimation of Shprinze, 
whose temper grew bitterer and whose tongue 
sharper with every new proof of her husband's 
Shlemihligkeit. In fact, the term Shlemihl no 
longer harmonized with her conception of her 
husband's worthlessness ; it was too mild, too 
utterly inadequate. She began to address him 
by no other term than Shlamazzalnik, that is, 
one doomed and predestined to perpetual mis- 
fortune ; and soon the neighbors and the other 
townspeople, and even the children on the 
streets, took up the cry, and " Yerachmiel Shla- 
[214] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



mazzalnik" resounded from one end to the 
other of the dusty highways of Novo-Kaidansk 
whenever the poor fellow made his appearance. 
Poor Yerachmiel ! He used to console himself 
by saying that he was the equal in some respects 
of the great Ibn Ezra, the renowned Hebrew 
exegete and poet of the Middle Ages, for the 
latter was also an incurable Shlemihl and Shla- 
mazzalnik. Yerachmiel used to think he was 
reading of his own experiences when he read the 
complaint of Ibn Ezra : 

" Were I to deal in candles, 
The sun would shine alway ; 
And if 'twere shrouds I'd handle, 
Then death would pass away. " 

But poetry, though it may be a good consoler, 
is a poor substitute for substantial food and the 
other requisites of a comfortable life; and so 
Yerachmiel was not entirely satisfied with his 
lot, even though the great Ibn Ezra was a 
companion in misfortune. Finding that his 
attempts to earn a living by work were not 
crowned with success, Yerachmiel did what 
other unsuccessful persons have done under 
similar circumstances — he took to religion. 
He became an assiduous attendant at the local 
Beth Hammidrash, was present at all services, 
morning, afternoon, and evening, and remained 
[215] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

in the sacred edifice during the greater part of 
the day and night. He would pray with great 
fervor, particularly the " prayer for sustenance " 
at the end of the morning service, would listen 
attentively to the rabbi or the other learned 
Talmudists expounding the Holy Law, and 
would sometimes try to learn a little himself 
from some of the bulky tomes. He was, no 
doubt, sincere in his new-found fervor, but can- 
dor impels the statement that one of the motives 
of his fondness for the sacred place was a desire 
to have a refuge in which the sharp tongue of 
Shprinze could not reach him ; and another was 
a desire to participate in the doles which were 
distributed on certain occasions, such as the 
beginnings of months or the memorial days of 
the death of the parents of well-to-do members 
to the poor persons who regularly attended. 
In this way he managed to exist in a precarious 
fashion, at least without being a burden to his 
wife; for whenever he had a little money he 
gave it to her, and when he had none he simply 
did not eat. It is true, he was sometimes 
obliged to go without food or with next to none 
for several days at a time ; but, like all other 
things, semi-starvation becomes a habit, and 
Yerachmiel was so used to it he did not even 
complain. 

[216] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



One afternoon he was poring over one of the 
volumes of the Talmud, trying to interest him- 
self in a particularly intricate disputation be- 
tween Abaye and Raba, and thus forget the 
unidealistic fact that he had not eaten a sub- 
stantial meal in three days, and that there were 
no visible prospects of obtaining any in the near 
future. He had fallen into a light doze, and 
was just dreaming that he had been invited 
by the Parnass to take dinner with him on the 
Sabbath, and that the Sabbath goose, juicy and 
savory and appetizing, had just been carried to 
the table, when he was aroused by a hearty 
whack on his shoulders and a loud voice ex- 
claiming, in boisterous though friendly tones, 
" Wake up, old Chaver ! What are you doing 
here ? " Yerachmiel awoke with a start. The 
vision of savory goose disappeared into thin air, 
and he was about to protest angrily against the 
rude disturbance of his entrancing dream when 
he recognized that the man who stood before 
him with a broad smile upon his countenance 
was none other than Shmulke Aronowitz, his 
old-time friend and boyhood comrade. It was 
Shmulke, sure enough, but strangely altered. 
He was dressed in an elegant suit of foreign 
make ; his hair and beard were closely trimmed, 
and his whole appearance, including his ruddy 
[217] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

countenance and his cheerful smile, indicated 
prosperity. All of these characteristics were 
strange enough in Novo-Kaidansk, heaven 
knows, but they were hardly to be wondered at 
in Shmulke, who had emigrated to America 
some twenty years previously and had amassed 
wealth in the liquor business in the classic 
vicinity of Baxter Street, New York. He 
had Americanized his cognomen into Samuel 
Aarons, and had incidentally acquired local 
fame by pugilistic ability so that he was some- 
times referred to as " Sam, the Hebrew slugger." 
He was now on a visit to his native town, where 
his parents still resided, and was unfeignedly glad 
to see Yerachmiel, who had been a real chum 
to him in boyhood days. The latter sat gazing 
dazedly at his old friend for a few moments, 
utterly unable to speak, so overwhelmed was he 
by the unexpected sight and also by the mani- 
fest contrast between his own condition and that 
of his friend. 

Shmulke recalled him to himself. " Come, 
come, old comrade," he said with good-humored 
impatience. " Don't sit staring at me as though 
I were a curiosity in a circus. Speak out and 
tell me how you are getting on." Thus encour- 
aged, Yerachmiel lost no time in pouring his 
sad story into the ears of his friend. Shmulke 
[218] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



listened attentively until the tale was all told, 
including the present hunger and the dream 
goose, and then said : " That is too bad, Yerach- 
miel. I am really sorry that you are so unfor- 
tunate. Come with me now to the inn of Reb 
Yankele, where, if you can't get the roast goose 
of which I deprived you, at least you can get 
something to eat, and there we can consult as to 
what can be done for you." Yerachmiel com- 
plied with alacrity. 

Reb Yankele was more than surprised at 
the unexpected apparition of Yerachmiel the 
Shlemihl, who had never in all his life been rich 
enough to be a guest at the Kretchm, although 
he had been glad to get an occasional meal or 
drink there in return for odd jobs, boldly enter- 
ing his establishment as the companion of a 
manifestly prosperous Deitch, He stepped for- 
ward with an obsequious bow and a deferential 
" What do the gentlemen wish ? " 

" The best your house has of food and drink," 
answered Shmulke, " and be quick about it. A 
rouble or two more or less makes no difference." 

Thus encouraged the innkeeper performed 
his task with alacrity; and in a few minutes 
Shmulke and Yerachmiel were sitting down 
before a very fair meal, consisting of beet soup, 
roast chicken, boiled potatoes, black bread, 
[219] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

onions sliced in vinegar, and a large bottle of 
vodka. Yerachmiel almost imagined himself 
in Gan Eden, and was convinced that if dreams 
were not prophetic, they were certainly closely 
akin to prophecy. The roast chicken, if not 
equal in quality to the dream goose, was not 
much inferior; and the vodka, while un- 
doubtedly not as good as the wine which is 
stored up for the righteous since creation's 
dawn, was yet abundantly satisfying to a poor 
sinner in the cheerless present. 

Shmulke watched Yerachmiel's enjoyment of 
the meal with a quiet smile of satisfaction, and 
said to him : " What is the best way to provide 
you with a permanent parnoso? Yerachmiel 
did not exactly know. He suggested half a 
dozen different sorts of business, from banker to 
butcher, but was most inclined to favor the oc- 
cupation of innkeeper, of whose delights he had 
just had emphatic demonstration. 

Shmulke rejected all these propositions with 
scorn. " To tell you the truth," he said, " I 
don't believe you could succeed at anything in 
Russia. You are too much of a Shlemihl, and 
you could never get along without some one to 
look after you. What do you say to going with 
me to America? I would set you up in busi- 
ness and help you along with my advice." 
[ 220 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



The magnificence, as well as the unexpected- 
ness, of this proposal fairly took Yerachmiel's 
breath away. Indeed, it made, him feel a httle 
faint. He did not really want to go to America. 
He admired America as a land of extraordinary 
and incomprehensible prosperity; but he also 
feared it as a land which corrupted Jewish piety, 
and made the holy people faithless to their 
ancient heritage. He would rather have re- 
mained in his native place and continued to live 
in his accustomed manner could he have been 
assured of even the most modest sustenance. 
But in his heart he knew that Shmulke had 
spoken the truth; that he was too much of a 
Shlemihl to succeed without friendly aid and 
sympathetic guidance, and that he could not 
expect to receive those from any one except the 
old friend of his youth. He therefore mur- 
mured a confused assent, adding, however, 
faintly that he was afraid Shprinze might not 
be willing to have her husband leave her and go 
to so distant a land. 

"Don't worry about that, old friend," said 
Shmulke, with a broad smile. "I'll guarantee 
that she will not put any obstacles in the way of 
her own prosperity. And now that you have 
agreed, we will go and see her at once." 

Shmulke was right. Shprinze assented at 
[221] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

once to Shmulke's proposition, which was that 
he would take Yerachmiel to America and 
assist him to become self-supporting, that he 
would provide her with sufficient money to 
maintain her for several months until Yerach- 
miel would probably be able to send her of his 
own earnings; and that if Yerachmiel proved 
unable to adapt himself to the conditions of 
America and find his way in his new home, at 
the end of three years he, Shmulke, would send 
him back to his native place with a substantial 
gift. Indeed, her assent was so willing, and 
given with such manifest pleasure, that it jarred 
disagreeably upon Yerachimel, and was not 
altogether pleasing even to Shmulke. 

Thus did Yerachmiel Sendorowitz become a 
resident and a respected citizen of the metropolis 
of America. It is not necessary to enter into 
the details of his career in the New World, which 
did not differ essentially from that of many of 
his Russian Jewish compatriots. At first he was- 
a peddler, Shmulke providing him with suit- 
able goods and initiating him into the mysteries 
of the profession. He did not fail. The mys- 
terious something in the American atmosphere 
which confers energy and shrewdness and prac- 
tical sense seemed to be even more potent than 
usual in his case. This may have been due to 

[ 222 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



the fact that the Shlemihligkeit, which had 
hitherto been his distinguishing characteristic, 
had been more apparent than real, and that he 
had really possessed innate qualities of courage 
and astuteness which only had lacked the op- 
portunity of manifesting themselves. However 
that may have been, he certainly became a dif- 
ferent man under the invigorating influence of 
America. He toiled early and late with untir- 
ing assiduity and industry; he purchased his 
little articles of merchandise wisely and sold 
prudently. In six months he had developed 
into a customer peddler, and no longer wan- 
dered through the streets with a pack upon his 
back, but went with samples only to the nu- 
merous customers whose friendship and trade he 
had gained, and received their orders. A year 
later he had given this up also, and was the 
proud and happy possessor of a peddler's sup- 
ply store in one of the little streets which abut 
on the main thoroughfare of the Jewish East 
Side, Canal Street, and had purchased a tene- 
ment house. Success even affected his personal 
appearance favorably. The old slouchy, un- 
kempt, ne'er-do-well, with the hungry eyes and 
hopeless air, had disappeared forever, and in his 
stead had come a bright, alert, neat, active man. 
Yerachmiel the Shlemihl had given way to Mr. 
[223] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

Sendorowitz, the prosperous wholesale mer- 
chant and real-estate owner. Nor had he failed 
to keep his promises to Shprinze. He wrote to 
her regularly, every week, telling her in detail 
and with great pride about his doings and his 
successes, not failing either to give due credit to 
Shmulke for the large share which the latter had 
had in bringing about these gratifying results, 
and always inquiring solicitously about her 
health and welfare. Once a month he sent her 
money, at first only a few roubles, afterward 
larger sums, but always sufficient to enable her 
to live in proper comfort in the little Russian 
town of her residence. He often wrote her, too, 
of his intention to go out and take her to his 
new home as soon as business would permit, 
she having expressed a strong aversion to cross- 
ing " the great sea " alone. In all this he was 
thoroughly sincere, for he was naturally the soul 
of honor, and really loved his wife in a simple, 
unreflecting way, despite the slight cause she 
had ever given him for affection. Besides, his 
Talmudic studies had given him a clear convic- 
tion that a Jewish husband was under many 
obligations to his wife; but his ideas of the 
counter duties of wife to husband were much 
less distinct. Despite the slight demands which 
he made upon the conjugal sentiment of his life 
[ 224 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



partner, he had, however, to confess to himself 
that the letters of Shprinze were not satis- 
factory. They were excessively brief, not very 
frequent, expressed very little interest in his 
personal welfare or his doings, and invariably 
contained a demand for a larger amount of 
money. Yerachmiel tried to obey the rabbini- 
cal precept, " Judge every one leniently," and to 
find excuses for Shprinze's unsympathetic de- 
meanor. He told himself that women are nat- 
urally inclined to scold, and that Shprinze was 
merely following the rule of her sex ; that she 
did not put full faith in his tales of prosperity, 
and was demanding money as a test of their 
truth ; that women are naturally less expressive 
of the affection they feel than are men, and a 
half-dozen other excuses for her apparent cold- 
ness and mercenariness. But none of these 
excuses seemed really adequate, and gradually 
Yerachmiel found a great dissatisfaction with 
the conduct of his wife toward him rising in his 
breast. Finally, a most painful question began 
to torture him. " Did Shprinze love him at all, 
or was her interest in him purely mercenary, 
and limited to the material benefits which she 
could derive from him ? " 

Simple-minded as Yerachmiel was in wordly 
things, untutored in romantic concepts and 
15 [225] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

affairs of the heart, his whole nature revolted 
against the idea of marital relations with a 
woman in whose soul burned no flame of love 
for him as her husband. But how could he as- 
certain the truth ; how find out whether his wife 
really loved him or not? Gradually a plan 
matured in his mind. He did not permit 
Shprinze to have any inkling of the doubts and 
the conflicting emotions by which he was agi- 
tated. He wrote her as frequently and regu- 
larly as hitherto, and sent her monthly remit- 
tances of money with unfailing punctuality. 
After some five years of absence he wrote her 
that he had found it at last possible to withdraw 
his constant personal attention from business 
for a few months, and that he would come out 
and take her with him to his new home in 
America. When Shprinze received this letter 
it did not fill her with the joy which the pros- 
pect of reunion with a beloved and long-absent 
husband might be expected to inspire in the 
heart of an affectionate and devoted wife. She 
would have preferred the indefinite continuance 
of the condition which had now lasted upward 
of five years, and which she had found very 
agreeable. It had been very pleasant to receive 
constant remittances of money, to live in com- 
fort and ease, and to be looked up to on all 
[ 226 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



sides as the fortunate and happy one. When 
she had entered the women's gallery in the syn- 
agogue all the women had hastened to make 
way for her with the utmost deference; and 
many a highly esteemed Baal Ha-bayis had 
looked upon her with favor, and would not have 
spurned to ask her hand in marriage if her in- 
cumbrance on the other side of the Atlantic 
would only have been good enough to make a 
polite exit for a better world, leaving her a sub- 
stantial fortune in American dollars. And now 
all this was to cease ; and she must leave her 
native place for a strange land, and live again 
with one whom in her heart she still despised 
as a Sklemikl, despite his unexpected good fort- 
une in the New World. Besides, she had a 
dim presentiment of evil, a feeling that the ad- 
vent of Yerachmiel meant some undesirable 
change in her tide of fortune, why or what she 
could not think. At last a despatch came from 
Yerachmiel, informing her that he was in Ham- 
burg, and would reach Novo-Kaidansk with the 
train due at such and such an hour. At the 
appointed hour she was at the station, accom- 
panied by quite a throng of Jewish townsfolk 
bent on giving their long-absent townsman a 
hearty welcome. Speculation was rife as to his 
appearance. Some thought that his long ab- 
[227] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

sence in a foreign land would have removed his 
Jewish looks ; that he would have shaved off his 
beard and assumed in every way the appearance 
of the Gentile. Others thought such a thing 
impossible of Yerachmiel Sendorowitz ; that he 
was far too pious and God-fearing to fall away 
so utterly from Jewish ways, and that the only 
change probable was that he would be elegantly 
attired in fine clothing, and would show in his 
prosperous and beaming aspect the possession 
of much America-gained wealth. The grimy 
train, drawn by the ugly, soot-covered loco- 
motive, swept into the low-roofed Russian 
station. The swarm of passengers, of all kinds 
and degrees, flowed from the narrow openings 
of the cars ; and then a shock came over the 
waiting throng. From amidst the crowd of 
passengers emerged one who was unmistakably 
Yerachmiel ; and, horrible to relate, the Yerach- 
miel of old, Yerachmiel the Schlemihl, To be 
sure, he was not exactly the same in appearance 
as of old, for the hat and suit that he wore were 
of American make ; but they were shabby and 
dusty, and ill suited to a prosperous man. His 
hair and beard were unkempt and neglected, 
and his face bore an expression of anxiety and 
care. All were surprised and shocked ; but the 
most pitiably shocked of all was Shprinze. 
[228] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



Yerachmiel at once recognized his townsmen 
and his wife, and advanced with a sort of wan 
smile to greet them. The former, of course, 
returned his greetings, and inquired how he had 
fared in America ; but their embarrassment was 
only too manifest, and cutting short his answers 
to them, Yerachmiel turned to his wife, who 
had been standing all the while as if petrified, 
and said : " Come, Shprinze, let us go home." 
Mechanically she led him to her home. Hardly 
had the door of the little dwelling closed behind 
them when all the animation and energy which 
had left Shprinze when she beheld her spouse 
in such unexpected and unwelcome guise sud- 
denly returned. 

" What is the meaning of all this ? " she de- 
manded fiercely, while flames of wrath blazed 
from her piercing eyes. " Why do you come to 
me from America looking like a beggar and a 
ragged saint fresh from the benches of the Beth- 
Hamidrash instead of a prosperous New York 
merchant, as you had made us all believe you 
had become? Was it all a lie, your oft-repeated 
tale of your success in business and your prog- 
ress? Did you steal the money you sent me, 
and have you fled from the officers of the law, 
who, perhaps, are after you now? Oh, you are 
still the same old Sklemikl, the same old good- 
[ 229 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

for-nothing! Why did the Most High curse 
me by making me your wife ? " 

" My dear Shprinze, do not rave so ! " expos- 
tulated Yerachmiel. " How can you say such 
things before you have heard any explanation 
from me? I am not a liar nor a ShlemihL 
Whatever I wrote you about my business suc- 
cess in America was strictly true; and the 
money I sent you was my own, and all honestly 
earned. I have come to take you with me to 
America; and I already have the steamship 
tickets for us both, and plenty of money for rail- 
road fare and necessary expenses." 

"Then why are you dressed so shabbily?" 
continued Shprinze, with undiminished fierce- 
ness ; " and why do you look so down-hearted ? 
Is that the appearance and the bearing suitable 
to a wealthy merchant, such as you have 
claimed to be ? " 

" I suppose I am not very particular about my 
appearance," answered Yerachmiel ; " and then, 
I admit, I have had considerable trouble and 
losses in business lately, and that may have 
given me a worried look. But what need that 
concern you ? I have learned the art of getting 
on in America, and I do not fear but that I 
shall soon be able to recover whatever I have 
lost. In the mean while I am here. I am your 
[ 230 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



husband, and I ask you to come and make your 
home with me." 

" You are mechullehl' said Shprinze, suspicion 
gazing out of every line of her excited coun- 
tenance. " I can understand from what you 
admit that you have lost all you had, and you 
want me to share your poverty, or perhaps to 
give you the money that I have saved from 
what you sent me ! I shall not do it ! I do not 
want to go with you ! Give me a Get. I do not 
want to be the wife of such a Shlemihiy 

Yerachmiel's pale face became fiery red when 
he heard these harsh and heartless words ; but 
again he endeavored to bring his wife to a better 
frame of mind. " Shprinze," he said in appeal- 
ing tones that might have melted a heart of 
stone, "is this my welcome home? Have I 
deserved this of you? Have I not always been 
faithful to you, even when I was a poor Shlemihl 
in this town, and did I not give you every ko- 
peck I earned? Did I not send you money 
abundantly from America? You may trust me. 
I still have the means to support my wife, and 
therefore I again ask you to come with me to 
my home, as beseems a good and true wife in 
Israel." 

" I will believe you are not mechullehl' said 
Shprinze, in a tone of calculating shrewdness, 
[231] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

" if you will give me a thousand roubles now. 
If you do that I will go with you." 

" That I shall not do," said Yerachmiel, a 
manly anger getting the better of his usual ex- 
treme mildness. " I do not need to buy my 
wife. Have you no love for me at all ? I ask 
you to go with me because I can support you ; 
and as a wife you can ask no more." 

" Then I see you are mechitllehl' answered 
Shprinze, "and I will not go. Divorce me, I 
say ; give me a Get, I want none of you or your 
money. All I want is a Getl' 

Again and again did Yerachmiel appeal to 
Shprinze's better nature. It was of no avail. 
She persisted in her demand and could not be 
induced to alter it. Seeing that her determi- 
nation was unalterable and that her one wish 
was to be separated from him, Yerachmiel, 
although according to the Jewish religious law 
he could have refused to consent to the desired 
divorce and thus have effectually baffled any 
other matrimonial plans that Shprinze might 
have entertained, decided to accede to her 
wishes. " I shall do as you ask, hard-hearted 
and ungrateful woman," he said ; " for even now 
that you treat me thus cruelly I wish you no 
evil. But one thing I must tell you. In order 
to show that this divorce is not in accordance 
[ 232 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



with my wish, I shall pay neither the rabbi, nor 
the scribe, nor any of the other expenses. 
Whatever outlay there is you must defray. 
Thus shall all know that you are the one who 
seeks to undo the bond that has bound us 
together these many years, but that I am 
satisfied to keep you as my lawful, wedded 
wife." 

Shprinze eagerly agreed to this; and having 
further agreed that they should meet on the 
morrow in the house of Rabbi Israel, the spirit- 
ual guide of the Jewish community of the town, 
they separated, Yerachmiel leaving the house 
without word of farewell. 

Great was the surprise of Reb Yankele, the 
inn-keeper, when Yerachmiel, whom he had as- 
sisted in welcoming at the railroad station a few 
hours previously, entered the inn and gloomily 
inquired whether he could be accommodated 
with food and lodging for the night. He won- 
dered greatly why Yerachmiel was not staying 
in his own home on the first night after his 
arrival from a distant land ; but the latter volun- 
teered no explanation, and Reb Yankele did not 
venture to ask for any. However, he did not 
need to remain long in ignorance. No sooner 
had Yerachmiel left his wife's house than 
Shprinze rushed to the nearest female neighbor 
[233] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

and told her the news, adding many dreadful 
details about the repulsiveness of Yerachmiel's 
appearance, his poverty, and his hopeless Shle- 
mihligkeit; adding, however, that in spite of all 
she must be grateful to him for his willingness 
to grant her the divorce she craved, and assuring 
her (the neighbor) of her unutterable joy at the 
prospect of being at last free from an incurable 
Shlemihl and Shlamazzalnik, The neighbor, of 
course, had no more imperative duty to perform 
than to put her shawl over her head and rush to 
communicate to her nearest neighbor the news, 
still fresh and hot, of the impending divorce of 
Yerachmiel and Shprinze Sendorowitz. In this 
way not two hours had passed before the whole 
Kehillak of Novo-Kaidansk had learned the 
news. Reb Yankele had learned why Yerach- 
miel was his guest; and even Rabbi Israel had 
been informed, at evening service in the syn- 
agogue, of the function which he was to be 
asked to perform on the morrow. 

At nine the next morning Yerachmiel and 
Shprinze were in the large front room in the 
rabbi's dwelling, which served as his ofBce, and 
whither repaired whosoever in Novo-Kaidansk 
had a religious question to ask or a ceremony to 
be performed, or that was in need of vSpiritual 
counsel or guidance of any kind. Shprinze was 
[ 234 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



gayly attired, and chattered constantly with a 
group of female acquaintances by whom she 
was surrounded. She was in high spirits, and 
cast occasional contemptuous glances at Yerach- 
miel, who sat, moody and abstracted, in a corner 
and spoke to no one. Besides these the room 
was crowded with the most notable members of 
the congregation, drawn hither by the excep- 
tional interest which this extraordinary case had 
aroused. The side door opened, and a hush fell 
upon the assembly as the venerable Rabbi 
Israel, accompanied by two coadjutor rabbis 
and several other persons who were to take part 
in the solemn function of pronouncing the 
divorce, entered and took their places in seats 
which had been reserved for their occupancy, 
behind long tables at the head of the room. 
The Shamfnas then asked in a loud voice 
whether there was any one present who desired 
to consult the Beth Din on any matter. At 
this Verachmiel arose, and, addressing Rabbi 
Israel, said: "Venerable rabbi, I desire to 
divorce my wife, Shprinze, daughter of Moses ; 
and I request of you to ordain the issuing of 
such a divorce, according to the law of Moses 
and Israel." 

" I hear your request with sorrow," said the 
rabbi, while an expression of pain passed over 
[235] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRACL. 

his venerable features. " Is it the desire of your 
wife also that your marriage be dissolved ? " 

Yerachmiel bent his head in assent ; and the 
Shammas, in response to a motion of the rabbi's 
hand, called in a loud voice : " Shprinze, daugh- 
ter of Moses, step forward." Shprinze did so, 
and the rabbi put to her the question whether 
she consented to the dissolution of her marriage 
to Yerachmiel, son of Isaac, to which she re- 
sponded with a loud and distinct " Yes." Sum- 
moning them both before him, the rabbi now 
addressed to them a long and earnest plea to 
give up their intention of divorce. He pointed 
out to them that, although the holy Torah per- 
mitted the dissolution of a marriage which had 
been polluted and desecrated by gross and 
abominable sin, or which had grown utterly in- 
tolerable to either or both parties, and left it to 
their decision whether it should be dissolved; 
yet it did not approve, but, on the contrary, 
severely condemned, the tearing asunder of the 
holy bonds of wedlock, and that in the words of 
the sages the altar shed tears over husband and 
wife who became recreant to the covenant of 
their youth. He therefore entreated them most 
earnestly to become reconciled to each other, 
and to remain faithful to the pledges which they 
had once taken upon each other. To this 
[ 236 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL 



touching plea they returned no answer. Ye- 
rachmiel gazed at the floor, his face alter- 
nately flushed and ashy pale. Shprinze gazed 
at the rabbi with firm eyes and shook her head 
in the negative. Seeing that his efforts at rec- 
onciliation were useless, the rabbi then an- 
nounced " the giving of the Ge^ must, therefore, 
take place." 

These words were the signal for the com- 
mencement of the divorce ceremonial, which 
was now performed with all the solemn and im- 
pressive formalities with which it has been 
carried out since time immemorial in Israel. 
The rabbi appointed an expert and skilful scribe 
to write the bill of divorce, which must be 
written in strict accordance with many minute 
and detailed rules, the neglect or violation of 
any of which would render it invalid. He also 
designated two pious and trustworthy men, both 
proficient in the art of writing the square He- 
brew script, to act as the official witnesses to the 
document. The scribe seated himself at his 
desk and produced his paper, quill pen, and ink, 
all of them specially prepared, in accordance 
with fixed rules, for this purpose. To him 
Yerachmiel, acting under the instruction of the 
rabbi, now spoke and directed him to write a 
bill of divorce for his wife, Shprinze, daughter 
[237] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

of Moses. Amidst breathless silence the scribe 
now began to write the document which was to 
sunder two lives hitherto joined. The writing 
lasted a considerable time; and during all its 
continuance not a sound, save the steady 
scratching of the scribe's pen, was heard, for it 
is strictly forbidden to make a noise of any kind 
while a Get is being written, lest the sound dis- 
turb the Sopher and cause him to err in some 
particular, thus necessitating the rewriting of 
the document. At last the bill of divorce was 
finished and the two witnesses appended their 
signatures, written in the square Hebrew script, 
and without title of any kind. The rabbi then 
designated two other men of religious standing 
and good repute to be the official witnesses of 
the delivery of the Get. Summoning Shprinze, 
the rabbi bade her uncover her face, which hither- 
to during the proceedings had been covered with 
a heavy veil, and said to her in solemn tones : 
" Shprinze, daughter of Moses, art thou willing to 
accept a bill of divorce from thy husband, Yerach- 
miel, son of Isaac ? " Shprinze responded with a 
firm " Yes." Turning to Yerachmiel, the rabbi 
asked him whether he still desired to divorce 
his wife, to which Yerachmiel answered in the 
affirmative. Turning again to the woman, the 
rabbi said in a stern voice : " Give me thy Ketu- 
[238] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



bah. Thou no longer hast any use for it." 
At this, the most feared part in the divorce 
ceremony, Shprinze's face grew shghtly pale; 
but she drew forth her marriage certificate, 
which she had brought along for this purpose, 
and gave it to the rabbi, who laid it aside, to be 
destroyed immediately after the completion of 
the divorce proceedings. The rabbi then bade 
her remove her marriage ring and extend her 
hands to receive her bill of divorce. Yerach- 
miel then took the bill of divorce, placed it in 
the outstretched hands of Shprinze, and said: 
" Behold, this is thy bill of divorce. Accept thy 
bill of divorce, and by it thou art released and 
divorced from me, and free to contract lawful 
marriage with any other man." With a few 
earnest words from the rabbi pointing out the 
duty of living their separate lives in peace and 
righteousness, and of avoiding in the future the 
sins which had led to this sorrow, the ceremony 
was concluded. 

Yerachmiel and Shprinze were no longer 
man and wife. At once a clamorous buzz of 
conversation arose all over the room. The 
excitement which had been suppressed so long 
now burst the bonds of enforced silence and 
found relief in vociferous exclamations of won- 
derment and emphatic expressions of approval 
[239] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

and disapproval. Some of the women con- 
gratulated Shprinze; others held aloof. The 
men were unanhnous in their condemnation of 
the hard-hearted woman who had taken her 
husband's money for years and then induced 
him, when grown poor, to give her a divorce. 

The excitement was at its height, when sud- 
denly a tremxcndous rap on the table drew^ the 
startled gaze of all toward the spot whence the 
sound had proceeded. What they saw caused 
a hush to fall over the assemblage. Yerachmiel 
stood at the side of one of the tables, his cheeks 
ashy pale, his eyes blazing with a furious light 
that no one had ever seen in them before, fierce- 
ly rapping with his cane in an effort to procure 
silence. As soon as his voice could be heard 
he began to speak. 

"Jewish brethren and sisters of Novo-Kai- 
dansk," he said, with painfully labored yet dis- 
tinct utterance. " You have come here to see 
Yerachmiel the Shlemihl give divorce to his 
wife, Shprinze. I know most of you are good 
people and have pitied me for being such a 
Shlemihl that I could not keep either my money 
or my wife. But, perhaps, I am not such a 
Shlemihl after all. I have not desired nor 
sought this divorce, but I have tried to find out 
the truth about an old wrong and to right it ; 
[ 240 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



and I believe I have succeeded as well as some 
who are considered wiser and cleverer than I. 
Sklemikl though I maybe, I have always tried 
to do my duty toward my wife. Even before I 
went to America, when poverty and wretched- 
ness were my lot in this town, I gave Shprinze 
every kopeck that I earned. From America, 
where God blessed me and made me pros- 
perous, I sent her regularly all that she could 
properly require. But in return for this I asked 
wifely love. I knew that a husband must 
honor, cherish, and maintain his wife; and that 
a wife must, in true marriage, return love for 
love, affection for affection. Shprinze never 
showed the least trace of love for me. My soul 
hungered and thirsted for love. Shprinze gave 
me, at worst, bitter revilings and beratings, 
tongue-stabbings that pierced my soul like the 
thrusts of a sword; at best, cold indifference. 
In the beginning, when I could not, because of 
poverty, properly support her, I excused her. I 
said to myself that I deserved nothing better. 
But when from America I sent abundance of 
gold and loving words, and showed in every 
way I could that I was a true and loving hus- 
band, and when, in return for all this, I could 
not get an affectionate word, a loving sentence, 
I resolved that I would find out whether in 
i6 [ 241 ] 



FROM THE HEART OP ISRAEL. 

Shprinze's heart dwelt a spark of love for me, 
or whether it was only my gold she loved. The 
rest you know. I came here, dressed in shabby 
clothing, looking the olden ShlemihL Her evil 
heart made her quickly conclude that I had lost 
my all, and without questioning me or offering, 
like a true wife, to share my lot, she demanded 
a divorce. I saw that she loved me not, that 
she had never been to me more than a wife in 
name, and to-day I have granted her wish. But 
let me assure her and you, friends, that she is 
mistaken in thinking that she has now got rid 
of a Shlemihl, of a poor, never succeeding un- 
fortunate. She has freed herself of a successful, 
of a wealthy man ; she has deprived herself of a 
splendid home in the greatest city of free Amer- 
ica; she has deprived herself of luxury and 
riches, and, what is more, of the love of a man 
who was deeply attached to her, and who would 
have given his all for a kind word or a loving 
kiss from her lips. See, here are the presents I 
had brought here for her, and would have given 
her had she treated me rightly." So speaking, 
he drew forth a magnificent diamond necklace 
and a beautiful, richly ornamented gold watch 
and chain. " And here is the proof that I am a 
man of means and no deceiver — a letter of 
credit on a Berlin banking-house for ten thou- 
[ 242 ] 



THE SHLEMIHL. 



sand marks" — and here he drew from his wallet 
the precious document and flourished it tri- 
umphantly yet sorrowfully before the eyes of his 
hearers. " As for me," he continued, " I thank 
the All-Merciful that He has opened my eyes to 
the truth, and that He has freed me from a ser- 
pent that would only have devoured my sub- 
stance, and with its icy touch have frozen my 
heart. Now farewell, friends, and farewell, false 
and heartless woman. I go to my home beyond 
the sea, where I shall try to forget this long, sad 
dream of misplaced love and cruel ingratitude 
and heartlessness." 

Having thus spoken, he turned and left the 
room. None ventured to detain him or to re- 
strain his departure. As he went out of the 
door, Shprinze, who had been listening with 
strained attention to his words, and whose 
countenance had alternately flushed and paled 
as he spoke, rushed forward as if she would have 
held him back, then paused, uttered a piercing, 
heartrending shriek, and fell in a deathly swoon 
to the floor. The cry reached the ears of 
Yerachmiel as he strode down the dusty street. 
An expression of pain crossed his features as 
he heard it, but he did not turn and he came 
not back. 



(243] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 

Franz Friedrich Levy sat on his high stool 
before his desk in the office of the Second Sec- 
retariat of the Anhalt-Diesterburg-Rickershofen 
State Railroad and reflected discontentedly on 
his lot. He had rather an important position, 
it is true, that of chief bookkeeper of the Sec- 
ond Secretariat, an important subdivision in the 
management of the railway, which was a pros- 
perous governmental institution, binding to- 
gether a rich and beautiful stretch of country in 
middle Germany. He was in receipt of a very 
fair salary, occupied a comfortable house in the 
suburbs of the town, and was wedded to a rather 
good-looking wife, with quite a store of fashion- 
able though useless accomplishments, but still 
he was not happy. The cause of his unhap- 
piness was a grievance which he had against the 
Ober-Direction or supreme management of the 
railway, a grievance for which he thought — and 
his wife agreed with him in this opinion — there 
could be only one explanation. He believed 
that his promotion was unduly slow. He had 
[244] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



entered the service of the railroad in his twen- 
tieth year as clerk, and now in his forty-fifth, 
when his once raven black locks were already 
heavily streaked with gray and more than a sus- 
picion of baldness was showing itself on the top 
of his poll, he was only chief bookkeeper of one 
of the numerous subdivisions of the great con- 
cern. He thought that by length of service and 
capacity he was fitted to be general manager of 
the road ; but while admitting that he had no 
right to aspire to that exalted position, he con- 
sidered that by this time he should have attained 
at the very least to the post of division chief or 
superintendent. 

" Why is it that I do not advance ? " he asked 
himself as he sat gloomily revolving on the high 
stool. "Am I incapable? Have I been idle, 
negligent, or inattentive to my duties ? Do I 
not know all the details of the business from 
beginning to end ? Do I not know by heart all 
the statistics of the road, the number of pas- 
sengers and the weight of freight carried, the 
condition of every station, the receipts and the 
expenditures to a pfennig? No, the fault is not 
mine. It is owing to rishus, to anti-Semitic prej- 
udice. My only fault, as far as I can discover, 
is that I am a Jew. To that I owe all my mis- 
fortune. This accursed accident of my birth 
[245] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

prevents my talents being appreciated, prevents 
my attaining the success which I should nat- 
urally reach; and, I suppose, as long as I am 
marked with this badge of disgrace and social 
inferiority I shall always remain an unimpor- 
tant, insignificant individual. That Ober-Direc- 
tor von Meinken, he is, I am sure, the chief 
cause of keeping me down. He always looks at 
me with such a dark, unfriendly glance when- 
ever I have to enter his office. He is the very 
picture of a Rosho, although he talks smoothly 
enough. I don't doubt but he would be glad 
enough to get rid of me altogether if he only 
knew how to bring it about." 

" Aha, friend Levy, why are you plunged in 
such deep thought?" suddenly said a deep, 
hearty voice at his side. " I have been standing 
here a whole minute and you have never even 
noticed my presence, so absorbed were you in 
your reflections. Did I not know that you were 
a married man of virtuous principles I would 
say that you were in love. But then the ex- 
pression of your face shows that you have not 
been dreaming sweet dreams of love delights. 
If I am any judge of physiognomy at all, your 
thoughts have been disagreeable ones. May I 
ask what they were ? " 

Levy turned around with a startled jerk of 
[246] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



the high stool. It was the Herr Ober-Director, 
Baron Adalbert von Meinken himself with a 
good-humored smile on his broad, handsome, 
Teutonic face, the lower part of which was cov- 
ered with a neatly trimmed brown full beard. 
Levy blushed guiltily. He felt as though the 
keen blue eyes of his superior were gazing into 
his very soul and reading the thoughts that had 
just occupied him. He stammered forth a half 
apology. 

*' The Herr Ober-Director will pardon my 
preoccupation," he said, " but I can assure you 
that I was not thinking of any outside matter. 
I never permit myself to think of outside 
matters in business hours. I was thinking of a 
method of reducing the expenses of the station 
Weizenhofen on the Blauberg-Schoenthal 
branch. That place costs a great deal more 
than it ought to, considering the small amount 
of business done at that point, and I hope soon 
to be able to lay a project before your Excel- 
lency which will materially reduce the cost of 
maintenance of the station." 

" Ah," said the Ober-Director, with a pleased 
expression, " I might have known that you. 
Levy, were not wasting your employer's time 
in idle ruminations. You have always been a 
faithful, industrious worker, devoted heart and 
[247] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

soul to the interests of the road. I shall be glad 
to receive your proposal in the Weizenhofen 
matter and I shall give it full consideration." 

And the Ober-Director passed on and entered 
his private office. Levy bent over his books as 
soon as his chief had passed, and was careful 
not to fall into another fit of reflection that 
afternoon. The words of the Ober-Director 
had pleased him but he did not altogether trust 
them. He feared that he was under close sur- 
veillance, and that all his actions were being 
rigidly scrutinized, with a view to finding some 
flaw in his conduct. He devoted himself, there- 
fore, with redoubled assiduity to his routine 
work until the welcome sound of the bell, an- 
nouncing the closing hour, relieved him from 
further labor for the day. He put on his hat, 
exchanged his light office jacket for his street 
coat, and with a pleasant word of farewell to his 
fellow-clerks sallied forth into the street. As he 
sauntered down the beautiful Kaiser Strasse, the 
finest thoroughfare of the town, through which 
he always walked both in his daily journeyings 
to and from the office and on his Sunday and 
holiday promenades, he was greeted by so many 
friends and acquaintances that his hand was 
continually busy raising his hat in response to 
their salutations. His social equals, both Chris- 
[248] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



tian and Jewish, saluted him with easy and un- 
affected cordiality, his humbler acquaintances 
with great deference. These manifestations of 
friendship and respect, instead of pleasing him, 
added to his discontent and his resentment 
against the authorities of the railroad. He said 
to himself that it was a crying shame, indeed an 
outrage, that a man so generally esteemed and 
honored by his fellow-townsmen should be kept 
in a subordinate position because of the re- 
ligious prejudices of his superiors ; and should 
be prevented by such a reason, so repugnant to 
the culture and civilization of the century, from 
attaining to the rank and emoluments to which 
he was clearly entitled. In this frame of mind 
he reached his handsome dwelling, which was 
charmingly situated in the Schoenberger Allee, 
a new and fashionable street in the suburbs 
of the town. To the effusive greetings of the 
spouse of his bosom, Frau Ottilie, nee Kahn, he 
returned a curt answer and threw himself, in an 
attitude of utter disgust and weariness, upon 
the sofa. 

Frau Ottilie Levy was a worthy counterpart 
of her partner in life. If harmony in marriage 
is secured by similarity in tastes and dispo- 
sition, theirs should have been an ideal union, 
for their characters and views were almost 
[249] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

exactly alike. Like her husband, Frau Levy 
was intensely ambitious. Her sole aim in life 
was to secure the greatest possible measure 
of wealth and social prestige. She shared her 
husband's grievance to the fullest extent; but, 
womanlike, she was inclined to put the blame 
on him for his failure to advance, and con- 
tinually nagged and pestered him with her com- 
plaints, and the expression of her discontent at 
not being able to shine as much as Frau Ge- 
heimrathin So-and-So or Frau Commerzien- 
rathin Somebody Else. Seeing the discom- 
posure under which her husband was evidently 
laboring, her woman's instinct told her that 
now was not the time to nag and scold, but to 
sympathize and console. She therefore relin- 
quished, or rather postponed to a more favorable 
opportunity, the caustic lecture combined with 
a demand for a larger allowance which she had 
been preparing all day for the special benefit of 
her life partner, and began inquiring, with great 
solicitude, concerning the cause of his disturbed 
condition. 

"What is the matter, Franz dear?" she 
asked, in the same tone of winning gentleness 
which she had lately so greatly admired in the 
celebrated stage heroine, Adele de Pompadour, 
as played by Madame Graetzinger, the re- 
[ 250 ] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



nowned Erste Dame of the Stadt Theater. 
" Why are you so upset ? I trust that nothing 
serious has happened." 

"Yes and no," answered Franz dejectedly; 
"that old Von Meinken caught me to-day, when 
I was thinking about the shameful slowness of 
my promotion, or rather my lack of any pro- 
motion, and was neglecting my work. I was so 
absorbed in thought that I never noticed him, 
although, as he told me, he stood by my desk 
over a minute. Of course I gave him as good 
an excuse as I could get up in a hurry to ac- 
count for my absent-mindedness ; but how can 
I tell whether the old fox believed what I said 
or not? Confound him, he's always sure to be 
around when he isn't wanted. You can rely on 
it that I worked extra hard all the rest of the 
afternoon." 

" You don't think that can hurt you any, do 
you.?" asked Otillie, dropping her theatrical 
manner, and with just a shade of anxiety in her 
voice. "What harm is it if an old, trustworthy 
employee like you is idle for a minute or two in 
the day?" 

"It oughtn't to be any harm," answered 
Franz. " But then you know how stiff and ex- 
acting these Prussian officials are. They think 
men are nothing but machines, and they make no 
[251] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

allowances for anything. A number of men have 
been discharged of late, and then, you know, 
there is so much anti-Semitism nowadays. I, 
as a Jew, have to be particularly careful." 

" There's the root of the whole matter," said 
Frau Ottilie, pouncing with avidity upon her 
favorite argument. " It's only because you're a 
Jew that you have any trouble. Don't tell me 
that an experienced, faithful official like you, if 
he were a Christian, would be trembling with 
fear of losing his place because he had been 
thinking of something for a moment or two. 
No such trivial thing would have been of any 
consequence in his case. It is only we Jews 
who must be continually alarmed, continually 
alert lest we commit the slightest error; be- 
cause, in our case, any fault, sometimes even 
only imaginary, means ruin. Yes, Heine was 
right when he said: 'Judaism is not a religion; 
it is a misfortune.' It certainly is your misfor- 
tune, and therefore mine. As long as you are 
a Jew you will never advance. You might as 
well try to jump over the moon as to overcome 
the deep-seated prejudices of Christians against 
Jews. You simply cannot do it." 

" But, my dear," said Levy, who had heard 
this sort of talk very frequently, and was rather 
weary of it, " what is the use of telling me all 
[252] 




it's only because you're a jew that you have any trouble 

Page 2^2 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



that again and again. I know as well as you 
that being a Jew is the chief hindrance to my 
progress. But what is the use of continually 
harping on it. I cannot change what I am ; so 
why kick in vain against the unalterable?" 

" But it is not unalterable," said Frau Ottilie, 
with even more acerbity than the sense of her 
old and keenly felt grievance usually aroused. 
" You talk as though to be a Jew was the same 
as being a negro, or a Chinaman, or blind, or 
lame. The negro cannot make his black skin 
white, nor the Chinaman his complexion or his 
features resemble those of the Caucasian; 
neither can the blind nor the lame alter their 
physical deformities. But the Jew needs only 
to speak a meaningless formula and permit three 
drops of water to be sprinkled upon him and 
presto, change, he has ceased to be a Jew and 
become a Christian. All his former blemishes 
and shortcomings are forgotten, and he is re- 
ceived with open arms into Christian society. 
Instead of being an outcast and a pariah, an 
individual barely and unwillingly tolerated, he 
becomes a beloved brother. Then, why stu- 
pidly submit to a load of inherited, unneccessary 
trouble? Why not rather take the one bold 
step which will make an end of them all at once 
and forever?" 

[ 253 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

" But, my dear Ottilie," said Franz, who, 
though used to this Hne of argument, was sur- 
prised by his wife's unusual bitterness. " What 
is the purpose of all this? You don't want me 
to be baptized, to be a meshummad, do you? " 

" That is just w^hat I do want," answered 
Ottilie, vehemently. " I want you to cease 
being a stupid martyr and begin to be sensible, 
and I want to be sensible with you, too. I am 
not afraid of the word meshummad. That is 
only a harmless term which stupid and fanatical 
Jews use to condemn people who are more sen- 
sible than they. Baptism will not hurt you. It 
is only the key which will unlock before you the 
gates of prosperity and happiness in life. Be- 
sides, if you look honestly into your heart you 
are no Jew. A Jew must have a faith, must 
believe in Judaism, and practise a lot of sense- 
less ceremonies. You do not care a straw for 
the whole Jewish religion, nor bother your head 
about the Sabbath or the dietary laws, or any of 
the other absurdities which they call religious 
practices in Judaism. I don't believe you have 
been inside of a synagogue in ten years. I am 
just as little of a Jewess as you are of a Jew. 
Yet, by keeping up the name of Jew, without 
any real reason except a blind clinging to you 
know not what, you expose yourself and me and 
[254] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



our only son to all the trouble and disadvan- 
tages which result from connection with a de- 
spised and hated people. Again, I say, be 
sensible. Pay the price of admission to civi- 
lized society, that is, accept baptism and be done 
with it." 

Thus did Ottilie reason and plead with her 
husband to renounce his ancestral faith. The 
argument, thus seriously begun, lasted long, and 
was carried on with intense earnestness on both 
sides. The thought of accepting Christianity 
was no new one to Franz. His wife's constant 
persual of that theme had made it familiar to 
him, but he had never yet seriously contem- 
plated the step. The memory of pious parents 
and of the religious zeal and piety of youthful 
days, though long since discarded, had had force 
enough to render the thought of apostasy utter- 
ly repugnant and prevent its serious consid- 
eration. But Ottilie 's nature was stronger than 
his ; her's was the masterful character, his the 
subordinate. Before the evening was over, her 
persistence and adroit reasoning had overpow- 
ered his feeble and illogical resistance. They 
retired for the night with the understanding 
that on the morrow Franz was to inform Herr 
Ober-Director von Meinken of his determi- 
nation to seek salvation in the arms of the 
[255] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

church, and to request the Herr Ober-Director 
to act as his godfather at the solemn rite of bap- 
tism. 

The following morning Franz awoke in a 
state of high exhilaration. Now that he had 
made up his mind he was thoroughly content, 
and wondered a little how he had ever been able 
to pass so many years with the awful burden of 
Judaism resting upon him, hindering and im- 
peding his progress, which he now pictured to 
himself as rapid and uninterrupted, bringing 
him from step to step to the highest rank in his 
vocation. Ottilie was even more jubilant than 
her husband. She rejoiced that her influence 
over her husband was so great as to induce him 
to take so important and decisive a step, and 
she rejoiced particularly when she thought how 
grandly she would enter the salons of her distin- 
guished acquaintances, no longer the merely 
tolerated Jewess, but the equal and co-religion- 
ist of them all. She pictured to herself with 
especial delight how solemnly she would enter 
the beautiful church, only two squares from 
their home, which was so holy and so fashion- 
able; and what a sensation she would create 
with her reverent demeanor and her Paris 
gowns ! 

As soon as Franz reached the office he in- 

[256] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



quired whether the Herr Director had arrived. 
As he had anticipated, the Herr Director had 
not yet arrived. He did not usually come until 
about eleven o'clock, and this morning was no 
exception. Franz waited with great impatience 
the arrival of the great man. He thought it 
rather inconsiderate of him to stay away so 
long when he, Franz Friedrich Levy, desired to 
make him so important an announcement. At 
last, about a quarter of an hour later than usual, 
the Herr Ober-Director put in his appearance 
and went at once to his private office. He had 
not been in his sanctum five minutes when a 
somewhat diffident knock at the door was 
heard, and upon his deep-voiced *' Herein ! " 
Franz entered. "Ah, is it you. Levy?" said 
Herr von Meinken, with a pleasant smile. " I 
think I can imagine the reason of your call this 
morning. It is, I presume, in reference to that 
Station Weizenhofen matter you spoke of the 
other day." Franz hesitated. Now that the 
decisive moment had come, he grew a little un- 
certain in his conviction of the spiritual beauties 
and material advantages of Christianity, and 
would have more than half liked another chance 
to think over the matter. But only for a mo- 
ment. 

" No, your Excellency," he answered. " It is 

n [ 257 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

not in reference to the Weizenhofen matter that 
I have taken the liberty to request a brief inter- 
view with you this morning. I am still engaged 
in working out that matter, but I am not as yet 
prepared to make any definite proposition on 
the subject. The cause that has brought me 
before your Excellency this morning is of an 
entirely personal nature, but of the highest im- 
portance to me, and I trust that I shall have the 
benefit of your Excellency's kindness and cour- 
teous sympathy in connection therewith." 

Herr von Meinken's eyebrows rose slightly 
and his lips tightened just a little when he heard 
these words. He did not answer, but continued 
to eye Franz with the somewhat cold and du- 
bious gaze of one who expects to be importuned 
for a favor and does not feel inclined to grant 
it. "What I desire and would respectfully 
request," continued Franz, " is that your Excel- 
lency might kindly consent to act as godfather 
at my baptism, and that the highly honored 
baroness might graciously deign to act in the 
same capacity for my wife. I do not doubt that 
you are somewhat surprised," he added, noticing 
the expression of genuine astonishment upon 
the Herr Ober-Director's face, " at this request 
but the fact is, my wife and I have contem- 
plated this step for some time. We are no 
[258] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



longer in sympathy with the faith in which we 
were born. We have come to recognize that it 
is a presumption for an insignificant, retrograde 
minority to cling to a religion different from 
that of the great, cultured majority. Our 
tastes and views are all in close accord with 
those of the Christian people of the land. In a 
word, we feel that our place is in the church 
rather than in the synagogue, and, therefore, we 
have finally determined to seek our true spirit- 
ual home, the church, and to request most re- 
spectfully your Excellency and your Excellency's 
worthy lady kindly to assist at the solemn rite 
which joins us with our fellow-citizens in the 
close brotherhood of religion, as we have always 
been joined to them in the brotherhood of 
patriotism and love of the fatherland." 

The Herr Ober-Director was surprised. 
There could be no doubt of that. The ex- 
pression of his countenance showed it plainly. 
But another emotion of a less definite nature 
was also suggested on his features. It seemed 
something like amusement ; but one could not 
be sure, for he did not explain it. He answered 
Franz very graciously, congratulated him on 
his resolution, which did equal credit to his head 
and heart, assured him that the true unity of 
citizens could only be found in their adherence to 
[259] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

a common faith, and wound up by accepting, in 
the kindliest and most condescending manner 
possible, for himself and the Frau Baronin the 
honorable functions of godfather and godmother 
to Franz and Ottilie. 

Flustered and confused by the extraordinary 
courtesy of the Herr Ober-Director and over- 
whelmed with happiness, Franz retired from 
the august presence. The baptism took place, 
with all due formality, about a week later. The 
minister of the fashionable Erloser Kirche, 
which Ottilie so greatly admired. Pastor 
Boecker, had been more than satisfied with the 
intelligent and modest manner in which Franz 
and Ottilie had applied for baptism, and had 
seen no reason to refuse their request for a 
speedy performance of the ceremony. At the 
rite itself, which took place in the presence of 
a small but select group of Christian acquain- 
tances, Franz and Ottilie conducted themselves 
with due humility and reverence ; and the Herr 
Ober-Director and spouse performed their parts 
with perfect dignity and solemnity, while the 
Herr Pastor showed, by the unusual impressive- 
ness of his address, that he considered the act 
one of exceptional importance. After the cere- 
mony there was a charming little supper in a 
private room of the Hotel zum Blauen Adler. 
[ 260 ] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



Never before had the Herr Ober-Director shown 
himself so affable. He proposed the health of 
their newly-made Christian brother and sister in 
the warmest and most eloquent terms, alluded 
in words of sincere appreciation to Franz's 
many years of useful service to the Anhalt 
Diesterburg-Rickershofen State Railroad, pre- 
saged for him a still more distinguished career in 
the future, and wound up by extending to him, 
metaphorically, of course, the hand of friend- 
ship and brotherhood. As for the Frau Baro- 
nin, she was as charming as she could be to 
Ottilie, whose right-hand neighbor at table she 
was. Our newly-made Christians were touched 
to the heart by all the kindness and sympathy 
that were shown them, and could hardly refrain 
from open manifestation of their joy. When 
the delightful feast was over and Franz and 
Ottilie had reached their home, they gave full 
vent to their exultation. 

" Now, Franz," said Ottilie, " you see what it 
means to be numbered among the Christians. 
What cordiality, what sincere friendship they 
all showed us ! Did you notice how extremely 
courteous the Frau Baronin was to me? She 
never used to do more than barely notice me, 
with a merely formal bow. But then I was only 
a Jewess, while now I am one of her own faith ; 
[261] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

that is the difference. I hope now, Franz, you 
understand how much you are obhged to me 
for having urged and finally brought you to 
consent to this step, which means so much to 
both of us. Ah, I shudder when I think of the 
time when I was numbered among the despised, 
wretched Jews. The church in which we were 
baptized is rightly called Erloser Kirche, for it 
has redeemed us both from the bondage of 
Judaism." 

" You are right, Ottilie," answered Franz, his 
face beaming with delight. " This has been a 
great day for us. I have no doubt now but I 
shall rapidly advance. Did you notice how the 
Herr Director praised my services to the rail- 
road and predicted for me a brilliant future? 
• That is what they call a hint with a fence rail ; 
that from now on I am to advance. The only 
obstacle to my progress was my Judaism; and 
that hateful stumbling-block being now re- 
moved, there is no reason why I should not 
rapidly forge ahead in my career." 

In this edifying and truly spiritual manner 
did our worthy couple discuss the advantages 
of Christianity until a late hour, when they 
retired to dream sweet dreams of financial bless- 
ings and social joys to come. The next morn- 
ing, bright and early, Franz was at his post in 
[ 262 ] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



the office of the railroad. He felt it incumbent 
upon him, so to speak, to show that he did not 
presume to take any liberties because of his new 
religious status, but that he still intended to 
merit promotion through faithful performance 
of duty. About the usual time the Herr Ober- 
Director appeared and, with a friendly nod to 
Franz, went into his private office. As his tall 
form passed through the door, Franz speculated 
as to how soon there would come through that 
door the welcome message announcing his ele- 
vation to the next higher post. He did not 
anticipate that it could come very soon; and 
when a half-hour later the Herr Ober-Director's 
special messenger approached his desk and 
deposited upon it a huge envelope addressed to 
him and bearing the official seal of the railroad, 
he was greatly surprised. " So soon," he said 
to himself, as with trembling hands and pal- 
pitating heart he tore open the portentous mis- 
sive. " This is far speedier than I could have 
expected. How overjoyed Ottilie will be when 
I bring to her already to-day the welcome news 
of my preferment. I wonder what the post is 
for which I am selected." Hastily he read ; and 
as he grasped the contents of the missive, his 
gaze hardened into a stare, his breath came in 
short, quick gasps, all the color fled from his 
[263] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

cheeks and left them ashy pale. This is what 
he read: 

" Anhalt-Diesterburg-Rickershofen 
State Railroad, 

" Bureau of the Administration. 

" To Herr Franz Friedrich Levy, Chief Book- 
keeper oj the Second Secretariat, 
"Dear Sir: We regret to inform you that 
after the end of the present week your services 
will no longer be required. Thanking you for 
your faithful efforts in the past, and sincerely 
regretting the necessity of dispensing with your 
services in the future, we remain, 
" Yours very truly, 

"The Ober- Direction, 
"Schmidt, SecyT 

Franz sat for a full minute as one petrified, 
glaring at the curt official note which announced 
the end of all his hopes and ambitions, hardly 
able to realize its significance. Then a sudden 
resolution came into his mind. He would face 
the Herr Ober-Director; he would demand the 
meaning of this utterly inexplicable and out- 
rageous action ; he would reproach him with his 
hypocritical professions of friendship at last 
night's celebration; he would shame him into 
continuing his services. He rose from his seat, 
went to the door of the Ober-Director's private 
office and knocked. His chief's deep-voiced 
[264] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



" Herein ! " was heard and he entered. The 
Herr Ober-Director was seated at his desk, and 
gazed at Franz with a grave countenance as he 
entered. 

"Your Excellency," said Franz, in a voice 
almost choked with emotion, showing the fatal 
letter as he spoke, " I have just received this 
communication, which informs me of my dis- 
charge. Is it correct ? Am I really dismissed 
from the road after a service of over twenty-five 
years .f^" The Herr Ober-Director bowed in 
corroboration. "Your Excellency will pardon 
me," continued Franz, "if I ask you, is this 
just.f^ Have I not always done my duty faith- 
fully.? Am I not fully conversant with all the 
requirements of my position? I believe these 
reasons would have justified you in retaining 
me." 

"What you say is true, Herr Levy," an- 
swered the Ober-Director, "and I regret ex- 
tremely to have to dispense with your services ; 
but the fact is, the business of the road has 
declined, and does not warrant us in retaining 
so many officials. The Government is urgent 
that I must reduce expenses. I am, therefore, 
obliged to abolish the second secretariat alto- 
gether ; and since your post thus ceases to exist, 
there is no choice but for you to go." 
[265] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

"Your Excellency will further pardon me," 
said Franz, with increasing agitation, " if I say 
that this action comes with especial harshness 
just at this time when I have joined your faith, 
and been initiated into the church under your 
kind patronage. It does seem strange, to say 
the least, that during all these years, when I was 
a Jew, I was retained, and no complaint or hint 
of prospective discharge ever reached my ears ; 
and now that I have become a Christian, you 
immediately discover that there is no need for 
my services and I am summarily dismissed." 

" That is the very reason, strange as it may 
seem," said the Herr Ober-Director. "You 
see, we had already contemplated dismissing 
you some time ago, as the need for your services 
had really ceased. But there is so much talk 
nowadays of official anti-Semitism, of anti-Jew- 
ish prejudice on the part of the Government, 
that we hesitated to discharge you, since you 
were a Jew and an employee of many years' 
standing. We knew that if you were discharged, 
it would immediately be made the basis of ac- 
cusations of anti-Semitic tendencies on the part 
of the Government ; and since the Government 
has no such tendencies, and does not wish to be 
considered as having them, we felt ourselves 
obliged to retain you. But now that you are a 
[ 266 ] 



A VICTIM OF PREJUDICE. 



Christian, and a member of the State church, 
no such accusation of anti-Semitism can be 
made, and we therefore have felt at Hberty to 
dispense with your services, which, as I have 
said, have really become superfluous. And, 
now, permit me to conclude this interview, 
which is time-robbing and unprofitable, and to 
wish you a very good-day." 

As Franz went out through the Ober-Direc- 
tor's door he said to himself, with grim em- 
phasis : " I think Ottilie will have to revise her 
favorite quotation from Heine. As far as we 
are concerned, not Judaism but Christianity has 
been the misfortune." 



[267] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

" Rabbi, why do you not come to supper ? 
Everything is getting spoiled ; and if you do not 
come soon, your meal will not be fit to eat." 

It was the voice of Rebecca the rebbetzin, or 
wife of the rabbi of Galoschin, in the province 
of Posen ; and she was endeavoring to induce 
her lord and master. Rabbi Akiba Erter, to 
leave his sanctum, where he had been busy all 
afternoon solving profound intellectual prob- 
lems, and to turn his attention to the less ideal 
but equally necessary task of eating his evening 
meal. It was nothing unusual for the good 
rabbi to be so absorbed in his studies as to be 
utterly oblivious to all other matters, and to dis- 
regard utterly such insignificant trifles as a call 
to a meal. Rabbi Akiba was a noble specimen 
of the old-time rabbi. He was a Talmudic 
scholar of extraordinary erudition and dialectic 
keenness, a pietist of rigidly scrupulous observ- 
ance, and charitable in the extreme. Of the 
three elements which go to make up the ideal 
man, the head, the heart, and the soul, it was 
hard to say with which he was more liberally 
[268] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

endowed. Whatever he did, he did with all his 
power. When engaged in study, his absorption 
was absolute and his concentration complete; 
when worshipping, his whole being poured it- 
self out before his Maker; and, when engaged in 
performing an act of benevolence, he had no other 
thought in his mind until it was accomplished. 

The problem which had engaged his attention 
on this particular occasion belonged to the last- 
mentioned category, and was knottier far than 
the most abstruse ceremonial, legal, or theologi- 
cal riddle he had ever been called upon to solve. 
So troublesome was it, and so greatly did it 
worry the good rabbi, that he presented quite a 
picture of despair as he sat before his study- 
table, upon which were heaped in picturesque 
confusion huge rabbinical tomes, some open 
and some closed, his black skull cup pushed far 
back upon his head, and his hair and long ven- 
erable beard sadly tousled and frowsed from the 
constant pulling he had given it during the past 
three hours, while his \owzpeoth were from the 
same cause all limp and out of curl. Supper 
time had come, but the problem was apparently 
as far from solution as ever, for the servant maid 
of the household had summoned him four and 
five times to the evening meal and he had not 
answered or even seemed aware of the sum- 
[269] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

mons; and it was only when the rebbetzin 
herself appeared that he seemed conscious that 
he had been called, and answered abstractedly, 
"Yes, wife, I am coming at once, at once." 
Impatiently muttering and grumbling to her- 
self, the rebbetzin returned to the dining-room ; 
and the rabbi, rising from his seat, directed his 
steps to the same place, his face clearly showing 
by its abstracted and absorbed expression that 
the same problem which had worried him all 
afternoon still engaged his thoughts. 

Rabbi Akiba was usually a very pleasant 
companion at table. He was in the habit of 
telling amusing anecdotes and making witty 
remarks in the course of the meal, and it was 
his invariable custom to discourse learnedly on 
some theme of the law before the blessing of 
the food was pronounced, in order to fulfil the 
rabbinical precept, "a man shall always speak 
words of the law over his table " ; but to-night he 
was very poor company indeed. He ate his 
food mechanically, taking everything that came 
along without examination, although his usual 
practice was to eat quite sparingly, and only 
such dishes as were favorites of his. He put 
snuff into his milk-soup and salt to his nose, and 
would have eaten the soup with its snuffy ad- 
mixture had not Rebecca pointed out the error. 
[ 270 ] 



THE RABBITS GAME OF CARDS. 

To the remarks addressed to him by his bet- 
ter half he returned only incoherent answers. 
In a word, he was in a state of abstraction and 
perplexity which was plainly visible to all, so 
that not only his spouse and his three pretty 
black-eyed daughters, Leah, Miriam, and 
Taube, noticed it, but even the Russian Bochur 
Hayim, whom the rabbi kept in his house out 
of admiration for the latter's profound eru- 
dition and who was three-fourths blind, and as 
a rule totally oblivious to everything that went 
on in the world outside of the Beth Hammidrask, 
dimly perceived that his master was not the 
same as at other times. Suddenly the rabbi 
paused while drinking a cup of tea, with such a 
suddenness, indeed, as to make half of the hot 
fluid go down " the wrong throat " ; and though 
sputtering and coughing, and with face fiery 
red from the resulting tracheal disturbance, 
managed to exclaim in triumphant gasps : " I 
have it, I have it." 

"What have you?" inquired Rebecca with 
some acerbity. " As far as any one can notice, 
all you have is a fit of coughing which cannot 
do you any good. I hope what you have is 
worth having." 

"Never mind, wife," said the rabbi with a 
pleasant smile. " What I have is indeed worth 
[271] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

the while. When all is accomplished you shall 
know what it is. And now let us finish our 
meal, for I am in haste." 

The rabbi then briefly discoursed on a re- 
ligious theme in order not to deviate from his 
custom, and pronounced the blessing of the 
food, in which all joined. "Now, my good 
Rebecca," said the rabbi, when these ceremonies 
were concluded, " bring me my great coat, my 
Sabbath hat, and my cane, for I have a certain 
visit to make." 

" Why, what possesses you? " said Rebecca in 
wonderment. " Why do you want to go out at 
night, although you have often told me that the 
disciples of the learned should not go out alone 
at night, and why do you wish to dress in your 
Sabbath state ? Are you making a visit at court 
or the palace of a noble ? I am afraid all is not 
right with you." 

" Do not be afraid, wife," said the rabbi, who 
was now in excellent spirits. " Everything is all 
right. Now, quickly get me my things, for, as 
I said, I am in haste." 

The rebbetzin was fain to be content with 
this not very satisfactory answer, and brought 
her husband his finest official robes, the great, 
heavy satin y?^/^^/^'^ and his broad velvet streimel 
or Sabbath hat. Having arrayed himself in 
[272] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

these, and taken in addition a stout stick, the 
rabbi ventured forth into the night, which, 
although the hour was not late, was already, as 
usual in those northern regions, intensely dark 
and quite cold. 

While he is on his way to his destination, 
whatever that may be, let us see what was the 
matter which had so greatly troubled the holy 
man all day, and which had driven him forth 
into the darkness and rigor of a northern winter 
night. That morning there had come to him 
Mosheh Labishiner, one of the constant wor- 
shippers in the synagogue and an unfailing at- 
tendant at the rabbi's Talmudic lectures in the 
house of learning, and had poured into his ears 
a pitiful tale of woe. It was not exactly a story 
of destitution, but it was one which touched the 
rabbi's naturally soft heart, always open to every 
plea of distress and ever ready to sympathize 
with all that suffered and sorrowed, in a particu- 
larly tender and sensitive spot. Mosheh told 
Rabbi Akiba that his daughter Deborah (whom 
Rabbi Akiba knew as a dutiful and God-fearing 
maiden and pretty withal) had been betrothed 
to a poor but very worthy youth, Samuel of 
Kempen, for more than two years ; that the two 
young people were ardently devoted to each 
other, and desirous, as were also the parents on 
i8 [ 273 ] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

both sides, of sealing their love by the sacred 
bond of wedlock, but that prudence forbade the 
union until the youth would be the possessor of 
a business of his own, and able properly to main- 
tain a wife and family. He, Mosheh, in accord- 
ance with the invariable custom in all good 
Jewish families, had promised his prospective 
son-in-law a dowry of a thousand gulden, which 
would be amply sufficient to establish a modest 
business ; but that owing to various misfortunes 
and losses he had been unable to accumulate 
more than two hundred gulden, which would 
barely suffice for the expenses of the wedding, 
but would leave nothing for the dowry. The 
young people were to have been married a year 
previously ; but as Mosheh did not possess the 
requisite amount of the dowry, he had con- 
tinually deferred the marriage, on various pre- 
texts, until now it was impossible to defer it any 
more. His poor wife and his daughter, the 
Kallak, were in the utmost distress and wept 
unceasingly, while his intended son-in-law and 
Mehuttanim^ who knew nothing of his financial 
embarrassments, were beginning to grow sus- 
picious and to think that he was opposed to the 
marriage, and did not really intend to permit it 
to be consummated. 

"And now, dear rabbi," Mosheh had said, 
[274] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

"help me, I implore thee. Unless I can pro- 
cure a thousand gulden within a day or two I 
do not know what misfortune will happen. My 
poor wife and daughter will surely die of broken 
hearts and my name will be blackened forever." 

Rabbi Akiba was not intimately acquainted 
with Mosheh. All he knew of him was that he 
was an " honest Jew," a good, straightforward, 
religious man; but that was sufficient to gain 
his sympathy, and especially the sorrows of his 
wife and daughter touched him to the quick. 
He at once offered to go and collect the money 
for the dowry among the wealthy members of 
his flock ; and he added that he was sure there 
would be no difficulty in obtaining the required 
amount for a young woman of such excellent 
repute, who was a daughter of such eminently re- 
spectable and pious parents. But here he struck 
an unexpected difficulty. Mosheh objected stren- 
uously to any public collection in his behalf. 

" You must not breathe a syllable of all this to 
any living creature, dear rabbi," he begged. " I 
could never endure the thought that all the 
Kehillah should know that I had been obliged 
to depend upon the charitable gifts of kind- 
hearted people in order to obtain a dowry for 
my daughter. I have always been an independ- 
ent, self-respecting merchant, and have myself 
[275] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

provided for all the needs of my family. I 
could not endure the thought of appearing as a 
Shnorrer for any reason. And then my wife 
and daughter, do you think that they would 
ever accept a dowry which had been thus gath- 
ered together from the offerings of pity? They 
would sooner die. They do not even know that 
my circumstances are so straitened. The mere 
report that contributions were being solicited in 
our behalf would destroy whatever happiness 
they have. No, rabbi, you must get the amount 
needed in some other way, in some way which 
will not even raise a suspicion that we are being 
helped, or else I shall have to ask you rather to 
do nothing and to leave it to the All-Merciful 
One to deal with us as He sees fit." 

These words, while they greatly increased the 
respect which the rabbi felt for Mosheh, also 
added immensely to his perplexity. They 
seemed utterly to shut the door in the face of 
any attempt to obtain the required sum. Rabbi 
Akiba himself was not the possessor of any 
considerable amount of money. His income 
was not large and he never had any difficulty in 
disposing of it, there being plenty of claimants 
on his bounty outside of his own family. If, 
therefore, he could not go to the wealthy house- 
holders in the Kehillah and openly ask them for 
[276] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

donations, he knew of no source whence he 
could derive the assistance needed. It would 
not do to request of them the gift of such a 
large amount without stating the purpose for 
which it was to be used. They might give it to 
him, such was their respect for his character and 
their trust in the purity of his motives, but they 
would be apt to speculate on the use to which 
he intended to devote it, and very likely they 
would find it out, too, and that would be directly 
contrary to the explicit desire and request of 
Moshehc Hence the perplexity and the mental 
struggles by which the poor rabbi had been 
tortured all day until at supper he had found, as 
he thought, the solution of the vexatious prob- 
lem. The simpler solution which would have 
suggested itself to many a modern cleric, to 
shrug the shoulders deprecatingly and politely 
to inform the suppliant that he regretted ex- 
tremely that under the circumstances it was im- 
possible to do anything for him, did not occur 
to Rabbi Akiba. He was narrow in many ways, 
limited both in views and experience to that 
which could be acquired in the secluded recesses 
of the Beth Hammidrash, simpler, indeed, than 
many a modern child in worldly ways ; but on 
that very account his moral fibre possessed the 
old, unspoiled Jewish sturdiness. He knew that 
[277] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

Mosheh was deserving of sympathy and help, 
and he determined to help him if there were 
any possibility of doing so ; and believed he had 
now found a way to attain that wished-for end. 

Rabbi Akiba hurried through the streets of 
Galoschin, brilliantly lighted with the bright 
illumination of early evening, presenting a sin- 
gular enough figure, as he hastened along, to 
be the object of the wondering stares of many a 
passer-by. Galoschin was a city originally Po- 
lish, but which under the influence of Prussian 
culture and discipline had become thoroughly 
Germanized, and which strove to reproduce the 
manners and the external characteristics of the 
German metropolis. The Jewish inhabitants 
in particular had, as a rule, dropped all the old- 
time Polish characteristics. Jubitzas and peoth 
in particular were utterly banned, and were con- 
ceded only to the rabbi to whom, as an exam- 
ple of rigid conservatism and unswerving piety, 
they were deemed appropriate. As Rabbi 
Akiba hastened through the streets he pre- 
sented, therefore, a most extraordinary contrast 
in his long, girdled robe, his strange broad- 
brimmed hat, with long, dangling ear-curls and 
the stout cane in his hands, to the ladies and 
gentlemen, attired in the height of modern fash- 
ion, who sauntered along the elegant thorough- 
[278] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

fare, stopping before the brilliantly lighted 
windows of the shops or entering the thea- 
tres, concert halls, cafes, and other places of 
amusement which abounded in this vicinity. In 
front of a large and splendid edifice, through 
whose windows and great portal floods of light 
poured and loud strains of gay dance music 
were heard, the rabbi paused. Over the gateway 
was a huge sign, which bore, in letters composed 
of shining gas flames, the legend, " Galoschin- 
er Casino und Vereinshaus." Rabbi Akiba 
glanced at this sign a moment and then boldly 
entered. His entrance was the signal for great 
excitement among the persons standing in the 
hall and among the visitors who were entering 
at the same time, and who had come to attend 
the annual ball and reunion of the Galoschiner 
Gesellige Verein, the fashionable club par excel- 
lence of the town, to which belonged all those 
who could lay claim to wealth and social station. 
It was an unheard-of thing that an old-fashioned, 
conservative Jew, who clung to Polish costume, 
beard and ear-locks, should set his foot within a 
place dedicated to the dance and the new social 
practices which had come from the West. To 
such a one they were all un- Jewish abomi- 
nations; and the sight of swallow-tailed, bare- 
headed men and half-clothed women, shame- 
[279] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

lessly exposing their naked bosoms and arms to 
the gaze of strange men, was hateful and loath- 
some. That Rabbi Akiba, the holy man, whose 
name was a synonym for all that was pious and 
austere, who stood for rigid and unswerving 
adherence to the olden Jewish life and stern 
religious discipline, and for uncompromising 
opposition to all new-fashioned vanities and 
worldliness, that he should actually in propria 
persona enter into precincts given over to empty 
gayety and folly, " the abode of scoffers," was 
more than surprising ; it was bewildering, stupe- 
fying, paralyzing. 

Rabbi Akiba did not seem to notice the ex- 
citement created by his entrance, but walked 
ahead to the door of the main salon. Here 
stood several gentlemen in evening dress. 
They were the reception committee, appointed 
to welcome the arriving guests. They gazed 
with amazement at the venerable figure ap- 
proaching, and bade him good-evening in sub- 
dued voices. He answered their greeting and 
strode into the salon. The dance had just 
begun, and the floor was crowded with gentle- 
men in evening dress and ladies in handsome 
decollete gowns and elegant coiffures. The 
appearance of the rabbi gave rise to a scene of 
extraordinary excitement and confusion. Both 
[ 280 ] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

men and women had no other thought but that 
their venerable spiritual chief had come there to 
rebuke them for their pursuit of unseemly and 
impious fashions ; that he would denounce them 
in fiery words as recreants to the faith, as sin- 
ners in Israel. In those days men and women 
still trembled when the rabbi uttered bitter 
words of reproof; and it was, therefore, only 
natural that a sort of panic seized those who 
knew that they had transgressed against the 
strict rules of propriety of their faith, and saw 
before them one who could call them to ac- 
count. Some of the women fled to the other 
end of the room, followed by their escorts; 
others endeavored hastily to cover up their bare 
breasts and arms; others again stood as if 
rooted to the spot and unable to move. But 
Rabbi Akiba uttered no word of rebuke. He 
stood still, gazing with a benevolent smile at the 
scene of confusion which his advent had caused. 
Several moments of embarrassment and con- 
straint passed before a few of the gentlemen 
present plucked up courage to approach the 
rabbi, bid him welcome, and inquire the reason 
of his visit to the ball. At their head was Herr 
Pringsheim, the banker and president of the 
community, who, by reason of his prominent 
station, acted as spokesman. 
[281] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

" Peace be unto thee, honored rabbi," he said, 
with a low and reverential bow. " We welcome 
thee to our festivity. But may I inquire what 
has brought us the honor of thy presence this 
evening? We had hardly thought that festivi- 
ties such as this met with thy approval." 

"Curiosity, merely curiosity, friend Prings- 
heim," answered the rabbi, with a reassuring 
smile. " I wanted to know what our Jews are 
doing in these new-fashioned days. One must 
know everything. Our sages, of blessed mem- 
ory, tell us : * Know what thou shouldst answer 
to the Epicurean.' But how can one know what 
to say to the Epicureans unless one knows what 
they do? Just think: I have grown so old and 
have never seen a ball and know nothing, except 
by hearsay, of what is done in a casino or club- 
house. Now, let the dance go on. Do not 
interrupt your proceedings on my account. I 
shall not scold you to-night, although what I 
may do some other time I shall not say." 

A gasp, indicating wonderment and only par- 
tial reassurance, escaped from the breasts of the 
rabbi's hearers at these words. There was 
nothing to do, however, except to follow his 
suggestion. Herr Pringsheim signalled to the 
musicians, who had ceased playing, to resume, 
and most of the dancers also resumed their 
[ 282 ] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

places, showing, however, by their embarrassed 
air that they were ill at ease and not at all com- 
fortable under the rabbi's gaze. It was a sin- 
gular sight, the venerable rabbi whose whole 
appearance bespoke the house of worship and 
the study chamber, and recalled memories of 
centuries long past, standing in a modern ball- 
room, critically inspecting the motions of the 
gayly clad crowd, who bowed and chasseed and 
changed partners and swung around in the most 
approved style, but who could not help showing 
by their sheepish looks how keenly they felt the 
absurdity of their position. 

The dance over, Herr Pringsheim asked the 
rabbi if he had now satisfied his curiosity. 
" Oh, no," answered Rabbi Akiba, " unless this 
is all that takes place here. But there must 
surely be more going on in a casino than merely 
dancing, or you could not use so many rooms." 

" But there is really nothing else," answered 
Pringsheim, "except the card-playing. Those 
gentlemen who do not dance play various games 
of cards until supper-time, which comes at mid- 
night. But I hardly suppose, worthy rabbi, that 
you take any interest in games of chance ? " 

"Ah, but I do," answered the rabbi, with 
sudden animation. " That is just what I want 
to see. I want to know what there is about 
[283] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

games of chance which so fascinates men that 
they will stake their money, their health, the 
happiness of their families, even their lives, 
upon the issue of a game of cards. By all 
means bring me where they play cards." 

With a gesture of despair and an illy sup- 
pressed groan, Herr Pringsheim led the way to 
the card-room. The entrance of the rabbi into 
the elegantly furnished card-room produced a 
sensation similar to that which had been caused 
by his appearance in the ball-room. A number 
of gentlemen were sitting around the green-cov- 
ered tables, deeply engrossed in their hazardous 
and exciting pastime ; but no sooner did the tall, 
venerable figure of the aged ecclesiastic appear 
amid the thick clouds of tobacco smoke which 
filled the atmosphere of the room than all 
paused in astonishment and rose to their feet in 
varying attitudes and aspects of amazement and 
consternation. Like their companions of the 
ball-room they were apprehensive of a fierce 
denunciation of their ungodly doings, and half 
expected to be peremptorily ordered home. 
Herr Pringsheim hastened to relieve their appre- 
hensions. 

" Retain your seats, gentlemen," he said, " and 
do not interrupt your game. Our honored rabbi 
has come here this evening impelled by a desire 
[284] 



THE RABBITS GAME OF CARDS. 

to see for himself how modern society amuses 
itself. He does not wish to disturb or interfere 
with you in any way. Resume your playing, 
therefore, and we shall remain here as mere 
spectators." 

The effect of these words was that the players 
resumed their seats and began again their inter- 
rupted games. The ban of the rabbi's pres- 
ence rested, however, heavily on all, and the 
playing, Hke the dancing in the ball-room under 
the same influence, became spiritless and per- 
functory in the extreme. The players removed 
their cigars from their mouths, the erstwhile 
boisterous voices became subdued, and all ani- 
mation departed from the scene. After silently 
watching the proceedings for a few moments 
the rabbi said to Herr Pringsheim : " Do you 
know, friend Pringsheim, I do not seem to gain 
any insight into a gambler's feelings from merely 
looking on. To me the whole thing seems a 
merely mechanical proceeding. One makes 
one move and the other another move. I can- 
not make out what it is all about, and I believe 
that I shall never have any conception of what 
card-playing is, or wherein the fascination lies 
unless I play a game or two myself. Would 
you mind playing with me?" 

"Not at all, rabbi," said Pringsheim, highly 
[285] 



PROM THE HEART OP ISRAEL. 

amused at the request. "What game shall it 
be?" 

" That is all the same to me," answered the 
rabbi. " I do not know one from the other. 
You choose any one you please and you will be 
kind enough to teach it me. I think I shall be 
able to learn it." 

"Very well," said Pringsheim, laughing 
heartily. " I don't doubt but you will make a 
famous card-player. Where there is Torak 
there is Chochmahr 

" But one thing I must tell you," said the 
rabbi. "We must play for money. I could 
never get the real feeling of the gambler, the 
thrill and the tension which he feels, unless 
there was the hope of gain and the risk of loss. 
So we must not play a mere formal game, but 
there must be a real stake involved." 

"Very well, rabbi," said Pringsheim, still 
smiling. " How large shall the stake be, a gul- 
den or five gulden? " 

"Oh, that would never do," said the rabbi. 
" I could not get the right idea with such a 
trifling sum, which is of no consequence whether 
won or lost. Let us play for a thousand gulden. 
I shall put my five hundred gulden on the game 
and you put in five hundred gulden also." 

The effect of this proposition was naturally 
[ 286 ] 




THE GAME WHICH ENSUED WAS HIGHLY INTERESTING 



Page 28'j 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

startling. Pringsheim stared at the rabbi for a 
moment as though he could not trust his ears. 
But he was, to put it in modern parlance, game. 
" As you wish, rabbi," he said, quietly. " We 
shall play for a stake of a thousand gulden." 

The game which ensued was highly interest- 
ing. Writer deponeth not, nor is it essential to 
the purposes of this veracious history to state 
whether the game was klabberyas, pinocle, 
skat, euchre, or poker. Pringsheim taught 
Rabbi Akiba its rules and the game began. 
With one accord all the other players suspended 
their games to contemplate the spectacle of a 
rabbi in jubitza^ strezmel^ and peoth engaged in 
a game of cards with a society gentleman in 
swallow-tail and bare head. Of the result there 
could be no doubt. Pringsheim, of course, had 
no intention of either defeating the rabbi or 
taking his money. After various more or less 
intricate manoeuverings Rabbi Akiba won. 

" Well, rabbi, you have won. Here are your 
winnings," said Pringsheim; and he took out 
his wallet, and extracting therefrom five hun- 
dred gulden notes, handed them to the rabbi, 
who took them with great complacency and 
stowed them carefully away in his purse. " I 
think you must understand now a gambler's 
feelings, at all events when he wins." 
[287] 



FROM THE HEART OF ISRAEL. 

"So far, so good, friend Pringsheim," an- 
swered the rabbi ; " but this is not quite expe- 
rience enough for me. I want to know how a 
gambler feels when he risks the possessions he 
has gained so easily. If you do not mind, there- 
fore, I should like to play one more game, stak- 
ing the amount I have just won." 

" I shall have to beg to be excused this time, 
worthy rabbi," said Herr Pringsheim, with an 
amused chuckle. " You are too good a player 
for me. Let some one else take my place. 
Herr Commerzienrath Hamburger, perhaps you 
will oblige our honored Rav and play a game 
with him on the same terms as the first one." 

Herr Commerzienrath Hamburger, a stout 
man with a bald head and a smooth face, who, 
like Pringsheim, was one of the Vorstand or 
trustees of the community, came forward, some- 
what reluctantly, at these words and signified 
his willingness to do as requested. The issue 
of the second game was the same as that of the 
first. The rabbi's good luck did not desert him, 
and a few moments later he rose from the table 
with the handsome sum of a thousand gulden in 
his purse. He thanked Messrs. Pringsheim and 
Hamburger for the instructive experience which 
they had been the means of affording him, bade 
the other gentlemen good-night, and turned to 
[288] 



THE RABBI'S GAME OF CARDS. 

depart. He was escorted to a private exit by 
Herr Pringsheim, who had him placed in a car- 
riage, and the rabbi was whirled to his home, 
leaving behind him a much puzzled and mys- 
tified company of his congregants. 

On the following day Mosheh Labishiner 
called on Rabbi Akiba. He was in a state of 
wretchedness bordering on utter despair. He 
had been forced to yield to the repeated entrea- 
ties of his wife and daughter, and had permitted 
the date of the wedding to be set, and had as- 
sured his intended son-in-law that the dowry 
would be ready a few days before the marriage. 
But he had not the faintest idea whence he 
could derive the needed funds ; and he did not 
believe that Rabbi Akiba, in view of the restric- 
tion he had placed upon him, would be able to 
assist him. His visit to the rabbi was more with 
a vague idea of obtaining some comfort from 
the rabbi's friendly words than of anything more 
material. As soon as the rabbi caught sight of 
Mosheh 's distressed countenance he cried out: 
" Mosheh, don't look so black. A man who is 
going to marry his daughter to a fine young 
bochur must look happy. Have you set the 
date of the wedding yet? " 

" Yes, rabbi, but the Neduniah ? " 

" Oh, don't let that worry you. Here it 
19 [ 289 ] 



FROM THE HEART OP ISRAEL. 

is." And the rabbi drew forth his purse, and 
taking therefrom ten hundred gulden notes, 
placed them in the hands of the bewildered 
Mosheh. 

"O rabbi, a thousand thanks! But how in 
the world did you get it, since you had not the 
money and I had insisted that you must not 
collect for us?" 

" Oh, that was easy. I won it at cards." 

" At cards ! " and Mosheh stared at the rabbi 
with a look of blank amazement and non-com- 
prehension. 

" Yes, at cards," said the rabbi. "I am a 
famous card-player. " Whenever any of my good 
friends cannot find the dowry of his daughter, 
I go and win it at cards. Why not ? Do I not 
cause the card-players to do a Mitzvah ? And is 
that not in itself a Mitzvah / " And the rabbi 
laughed long and heartily. 

" Rabbi, I do not understand thy words," said 
Mosheh ; " but I know thou hast been my sav- 
iour, and the saviour of my family. I would fain 
show my gratitude. How can I thank thee? " 

" I want no thanks," said the rabbi. " All I 
want is that thou shouldst respect my ability as 
card-player and give me the privilege of a Mitz- 
vah dance at the wedding." And the rabbi 
laughed again. 

[290] 



GLOSSARY OF HEBREW AND OTHER 
NON-ENGLISH TERMS. 



Abaye and Raba, . . . Two distinguished rabbis of the Tal- 
mud. 

Angenehme Ruhe, . . . Pleasant rest. 

Ani Yehudi, bo immi achi, I am a Jew. Come with me, O my 

brother. 

Apologia pro Libro Suo, . Apology or defence of his book. 

Aup WiEDERSEHEN, . . . Good-by; au revoir. 

Bachurim, Talmud students. 

BocHUR, Talmud students. 

BoRUCH Hashem, . . . Praised be the Lord. 

Baal Hab-bayis or Baal 
Ha-Bayith, ..... Householder, burgher. 

Baale Batim, Members of the congregation. 

Bauerngut, Peasant estate, farm. 

Beth Ha-Midrash, . . . House of study, where the study of the 

law and worship are conducted. 

Chaussee, Highway. 

Charit, Sharp, keen-witted. 

Chaver, Friend, companion. 

Chazan, See Hazan. 

Chochmah, Wisdom. 

Deitch, German: Polish- Jewish term for a Jew 

who has adopted Gentile dress and 
ways. 

ETHROGDf, Fruit of the citra species, used on the 

Feast of Tabernacles, Lev. xxiii. 40. 

EiNGELEGTE GaKSEBRUST, . Goose breast preserved in fat. 

Erste Dame, .... First Lady; Prima Donna. 

Eternal House, .... English rendition of Beth Olam, one of 

the many touching Hebrew names for 
the Jewish Cemetery. 

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GLOSSARY. 



FxjLDA Rav, Officiating rabbi of Fulda. 

Galoschiner Casino und 
Vereinshaus, . . . . Galoschin Casino and Club House. 

Gan Eden, Paradise. 

Gebijige, Mountain range. 

Gefullte flanken, . . Stuffed flanks or navel pieces. 

Gemara, Main portion of the Talmud. 

Gesetzte Bohnen, . . . Beans placed in the oven on Friday and 

left there till the next day. 

Gesetztes Essen, . . . Food treated as preceding. 

Get, . Divorce. 

Gruesse Gott, .... Be greeted in the name of God. 

Gruenkern Suppe, . . . Soup made from a peculiar kind of 

green kernels. 

Guten Morgen, .... Good morning. 

GuTEN Tag, Good day. 

Gut Woch Good week. 

Haftarah, Prophetic portion. 

Hakamim, The sages, the rabbins. 

Halachah, ...... Religious rule or decision. 

Hazan, Reader or Precentor. 

Herein, . . . . . . Come in. 

Illuy, Bright scholar. 

JuBiTZA, ....... Long robe worn by the Polish and Rus- 
sian Jews. 

Kaddish, . . . . . .A prayer recited by sons during the 

eleven months after the death of a 
parent. 

Kallah, Bride. 

Kehtlla, Congregation. 

KiDDUSH, Benediction by wliich the Sabbath or 

festivals are introduced. 

Kiddush-Beaker, . . . Cup containing the wine of the bless- 
ing. 

Ketubah, Marriage certificate. 

Kosher, Ritually clean. 

Kretchm, Tavern, inn. 

"L'Etat, c'est moi," . . The State, I am it. 

Lebe Wohl, Farewell. 

[ 292 ] 



GLOSSARY. 



Lef, A heart. 

Link, Irreligious. 

LoEFFEL, A spoon. 

Maariv, Evening service. 

Maggid, ..... Preacher. 

Malach, ...... Angel. 

Massig gevooi,, .... Interference with the business of an- 
other. 

Mazzol Tov, ... . . . Good luck, a form of congratulation. 

Mechulleh, A bankrupt. 

Mehuttanim, ..... Relatives by marriage. 

Melammedim, Hebrew teachers. 

Mesholim, Stories or parables. 

Meshummad or Me- 

SHXJMMED, A renegade, a pervert from Judaism. 

MiNCHAH, Afternoon service. 

MiSHNAH, Portion of the Talmud. 

MiSHPOCHOH, Family connections, relationship. 

MiTZVAH, Meritorious action, good deed. 

Neduniah, Dowry. 

Nefoshos, Souls. 

NiGGXJN, Melody. 

OvEL, A mourner. 

Parnass, President of the congregation. 

Parnoso, Livelihood, sustenance. 

Peoth, Ear curls. 

Plett, .A ticket. 

Raconteur, fem. — euscj . Teller of tales and anecdotes. 

Rav, OflScial or communal rabbi. 

RiSHUS, Wickedness, enmity; Hebrew term for 

anti-Jewish prejudice. 

ROSH Chodesh, .... First of the Jewish month. 

RosHO, Wicked man, Jew-hater. 

SCHEITEL, A cloth or wig with which religious 

Jewesses cover their heads. 

SCHLAFE WOHL, .... Sleep well. 

ScHNORRERS, Beggars. 

Sedrah, The part of the Pentateuch read in the 

synagogue. 

[293] 



GLOSSARY. 



Shabbos Kugel, .... Sabbath pudding. 

Shammas, Synagogue attendant; sexton. 

Shidduch, Marriage. 

Shiur, A selection from the Taknud or devo- 
tional books. 

Shivah, The prescribed mourning period of 

seven days during which the mourner 
sits on the earth and does not leave 
the house. 

Shool, Synagogue. 

SoPHER, Scribe. 

Taanis, A fast day. 

Tallethim or Tallithoth, Robes or shawls worn during services. 

Tephillin, Phylacteries. 

Proselyte or Righteous- 
ness, English rendition of Ger Tsedek, a Gen- 
tile who enters into the covenant of 
Judaism in all sincerity and lives a 
consistently pious and religious life. 

TORAH, The Law. 

Tjiefa or Trefoth, . . Forbidden food. 

Vis a vis de rien, . . . Over against nothing — i. e., at a loss, 

unable to do anything. 

Vodka, Russian whiskey. 

Yehudi, A Jew. 

Yehtjdi Atxah? .... Art thou a Jew? 

Yeshibah Tahnudic Academy. 

ZviriEBEL Tatcher, . . . Onion cake. 



[294] 



